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Mar. 9th, 2006 02:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
proximoceptionWhen you have it it's quite three dimensional, somehow. Objects pass freely through one another in the mind, so it's something like a sculpture, a composition of bodies, and one you're more within than without. Freeing things from overlap, a city that's a womb that's a jigsaw. My mouth has a role in this: My jaw, my tongue against my teeth. Granting the feeling of weight to those mighty nothings.
And it's not the specific bodies that matter, it's the memory that you can do this at all. That this particular angle of involvement floods the maze with light.
It offers control, I suppose, akin to a waking lucid dream. But power isn't the point, power is just the ability to know, which is just the ability to be better, to better be.
Thought is so ashamed of itself. A shame like an inverted gravity, drawing objects away from one another. When that lets up for just a moment, how quickly things converge. How solid the figments become, solider by far than the figments we let pass for solids.
And it's not the specific bodies that matter, it's the memory that you can do this at all. That this particular angle of involvement floods the maze with light.
It offers control, I suppose, akin to a waking lucid dream. But power isn't the point, power is just the ability to know, which is just the ability to be better, to better be.
Thought is so ashamed of itself. A shame like an inverted gravity, drawing objects away from one another. When that lets up for just a moment, how quickly things converge. How solid the figments become, solider by far than the figments we let pass for solids.
