Voice Dialogue

Ready for the Dialogue to begin, while expectant for the Voices to appear. No major issue to solve here today, just a curiosity to taste my many Selves. Sitting on the sofa as I always do, making such familiar spot a kind of starting point. But to where? And, specially, to who?

{moving to the right, still sitting next to me}

Looking at his face in front of me, I realize another second me who —taking care of the actions and reactions of that face— makes sure the connection to the outside flows quite smooth. He then invites the one who is describing the situation to describe himself. All of sudden a triangle of me’s has formed before my eye.

{bending to the front, quite opposing his guiding voice}

Confused, thinking, restarting, mentally blank. Trying to remember, perhaps to guess, what’s the subject of his question to which the predicate applies. So used to being fluent and concerned about actions, the simple actor of this one escapes to me now. It is me, for sure, but what me? Traversing that confusion, most thoughts and voices shut up. Me is now barely more than a pure mental blank.

{top downwards sunk and bending forth}

He then turns the inducing words once again, inviting me to feel my body’s weight. It is now heavier than before, and so this me allows himself to reach the floor. Laying down, testing first this side and then that one, I finally repose along the line. Opening my eyes, he is there gazing like a father. Closing my eyes I see the white cord from my belly, reaching non-existence all the time. It feels beautifully white. I am nor dead nor alive; maybe both.

{raising up again}

Confusion again, this time felt more beneath my head. Such a blissful decoherence reigns the self. TV noise-like channels all at once, we have moved to a third screen deeper out. And so I smile: I got this play now. It is time to stand up.

{sitting on the rocking chair}

I am the outlet of the material that goes through. I am the opening of the lid from where creativity is poured down. I am indifferent to the flow, which depends on the filters underneath. Lately, I know that more and more is coming in. The dogs at the border renounce to examine every package that arrives. I then feel the gratitude on behalf of all of them. I have not realized it but I am now another me.

{inclined forward on that rocking chair}

So I am asked again: but, what do you do? I am the guy that keeps them all grateful. This is essential to make it work, inside. And then a cheeky smile coming from the left literally kicks in. Its name is falsehood. Time to move.

{further towards the window, standing and leaning on the wall}

I am now falsehood —anger wants to come in too. They’re kind of cousins. Suddenly a queue of selves from that gang is formed. Falsehood openly talks about the job: we copy the tricks of the inside to replicate them on the outside. The authentic unauthentic role at play! But why, the man in the chair asks? To protect the inner peace from the outside noise.

{two steps back and to the left}

I am not so seriously false as I appear to be. I am also playful most of the time, cause everything is more or less always alright.

{still there}

All the others want to say hi and talk now. Specially anger (who has tried before) wants to take possession of the speech. But, no, not now. A big fire is in front of me. I am that too. Many tiny powerful flames heat up a huge cauldron. The Mind is very active; talking very much.

{asked to go back to the starting point, I sit down}

I am back to square one, yet the crooked spiral has move forth. Can I feel my physical body? Trying hard. Not much stands. It is from the surface that I talk now: the air of the mind touching the ground. Mind tells Will what to do. Mind needs Will to do. Centering on my belly and hips, I plan to submerge in the underworld.

{sitting on my heels, circling around}

So I try to explore my body, and let it move to feel it close, closer. Finally falling on my heels with bent legs, I feel the pressure on my thighs. I am a huge boulder, a solid brown rock. I finally dove into the underworld.

{aiming to stand up, I freeze half way between}

Standing like an archer, with one leg sunk on earth, I see the little goblins with all their seriousness. Mind is invited as a guest; it can only be shown here. I appreciate the new provinces of tools for me to master. No elf’s arrow makes a difference in the ground.

{simply sitting back}

Appearing there, as if simply possession of that space had been taken, all is somewhere somehow, Alex has been gone for a while, including the persons we have visited so far. Who are you, he asks? I have no name to name me; I know I am very old but always fresh. Since when have you been with us? Nearly since the beginning, including every beginning. How do you serve him? I really don’t bother to care. I am.

{closing the journey, back to the left}

Before we close, I take a glimpse of the space. I realize my path and the zones I didn’t want to thread. There is something on the further left I recognize: a set of old stuff beneath an old curtain. It reminds me of my grandmother’s house. Another day, another time, I’ll be with you, in you. Finally, I feel my palms touching my legs, as a promise to my body to be with it. That’s it for now. Quite a beautiful ride. One of experiences literally beyond the five senses. That is indeed the future of philosophy and science. Today, a brief assay as an essay in this cosmic singularity that is our cave.

{Thank you, J, for being the perfect silent walker by my side}