I usually write first thing in the morning around 7 ish and am hardly awake. I just put pen to paper and write and this is what I came up with...
Image by Anke Sundermeier from Pixabay
The equalising power of a month of Sundays in the great scheme of things has its part to play to good effect usually, and so in no small measure: time irons out and puts back into equilibrium the momentary relapses of consciousness that cause such momentous drama and grief that is most often mistaken for the human condition but should perhaps be re-classified as an excess of mind.
Because not everyone can be the same as everyone else this can make an interesting composition to sing around the May Pole in the May Pole dance; and for those who don’t have a clue there is always the TV to inform them of all they need to know, and like many others can sit in front of it until the cows come home and fill their minds and can count themselves lucky to have so much to fill, although by now there are those so full of it there may not be much room left over.
Image by Alexander Antropov from Pixabay
Further to this understanding and not to be confused with the ice maidens down the bottom of the garden, the esoteric side switch on the side of the TV is not for your amusement and should never be tampered with or dire consequences could follow. You have been warned.
Now, in the wanton adds somewhere inside of one of the local newspapers that come out every day all over the world was a tiny add saying: two interesting people wanted to fill an empty space. Apply soon and bring money.
Of course no one saw the add, the paper only ever bought to light fires with, but the winds of synchronicity did pick up one page and fluttered it right into the hands of the adducer, so called because he could adduce from any known quality or quantitative state what seems to be a perfectly good explanation and run away with it to Jacky Pim's who’d give him sixpence for it and a pat on the head for being so good. And he also liked mushrooms.
Image by lala_kambola from Pixabay
The adducer had a huge desire to broaden his horizons and on seeing the add on the page set out to ‘apply soon’ and found five bob along the way which he used to pay his entry fee into the psychedelic hope factory. Some say he only got in because he came in disguise dressed up as a dream of expectations and was accepted with open arms and smiles all round, give or take a shake of the tambourine and a blow on the whistle.
Pauline Marylander on the other hand was a hippie through and through and was backpacking around town and so found herself on the bus that used to be the magical mystery tour bus but sold out that very morning to commercialism and so she was delivered to the psychedelic hope factory and dropped off outside the front door which was multi coloured in swirling day-glow and captured the eyes and made them go all funny.
Pauline pulled herself together and uncrossing her eyes she pushed on the door and as it opened she walked through and found that the inside was a place where things were not as they seemed.
Image by Siggy Nowak from Pixabay
Long ago in the annals of history a cave woman with extraordinary powers of far seeing saw far into the future and found herself looking through the eyes of Pauline Marylander as she entered a strange place through colourful doors, but what she saw was beyond her comprehension, nevertheless she attempted to reveal her vision to the rest of her cave tribe by drawing murals on the walls of the cave and so became the first visionary artist.
None of the tribe could make head or tail of the drawings, but the drawings were colourful and brightened up their home and so she was left well alone to carry on with her art.
Over time the swirling colours and patterns entered the unconscious knowing of the tribe and influenced them so much so that before long they were all wearing multi-coloured tiger skins and sitting around the fire eating mushrooms and inhaling the smoke of far out substances, and in this way became the very first hippies to populate the planet; but their ideas and behaviour was too far ahead of their time and so they passed into legend and were forgotten.
Pauline shivered out of a funny feeling as she entered and called out:
“Hello.” She said and put her backpack down on the floor. The door closed behind her as if by magic but it was only the way the door was hung that made it close under its own weight.
The large space she was in was lit by flickering candles and momentarily she felt herself to be in a cave with brightly painted walls. She shook herself out of this delusion and began investigating the dream-like and surreal place she found herself in.
Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay
An un-normal reality where the walls were painted in swirling colours entered her and began to make her feel at home and she knew she was going to be alright here.
In an alcove under the chimney she found the old record player so she set it to going and dropped the needle into the groove of ‘Belly Button Window’ by Jimi Hendrix.
Image by stuart hampton from Pixabay
“Groovy,” she said as the music filled the airwaves and made them dance and so she set down to contemplate her new found home.
The quintessential agreement flowed in from out of her bedroom and was immediately entranced by the excellent vibration that was like a soup of love that she waded into.
Passing Andromeda in this way she came across Pauline who had finished contemplating her naval and was looking around in wonder and was so pleased to be here that she felt happiness that came from her in waves and although it was a part of the whole, nevertheless had its own equation.
As the quintessential agreement flowed into this equation towards Pauline their eyes met and in that moment of soul recognition they became fast friends and smiled.
Image by Peter Kraayvanger from Pixabay
Not far away from all this in the renaissance shack of existentialism a few stones removed from the secret garden the truth-tell dreamer was firing up the boilers and singing a popular ditty of his time that fed into the experiential reality he was used to.
Unknown to him at this time and on another reality altogether, the fantastic reload was hot on his heels from another lifetime with all guns blazing but was no match for the equalising power of a month of Sundays and soon had to cool his heels and so pulled into a watering house and ordered a beer...
End of part one
Images from Pixabay
Now that is an eclectic stream of consciousness. What a good start to the day when you wake up literary guns blazing. Must make for a good cup of coffee.
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Best coffee in the world, and I have two cups; and after I've done a 1000 words or so I have a bowl of tropical fruit with some yogurt and I'm all set for the day... Thanks for you comment
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Would you call your morning writing "free association" or "stream of consciousness"? And do you ever remember your dreams and write them down somehow? Jung recommended it as a way to learn about your inner unconscious side.
I used to write first thing every morning but it has shifted to last thing every night, so can vary.
I don't know what to call it, I'm just in the space. I don't remember my dreams unless they are something that disturbs me and even then they fade away fast. Not sure what is going on with me, seems to be a block somewhere that I don't know how to remove. I know the theory and the doing about visualising what I want but rarely does it come to me. Really had enough of living in lack, and with not many years left to live I really would like to do what I want to, travel, write and take photos, but being barely able to survive each week until the next money comes in travel etc is a only going to happen on a wish and a prayer, and done that and find I'm a bit old now to keep doing that hardly knowing where I will sleep. When I was young it was not a problem so much as I'd just go and sleep by the side of the road and food would come and etc. If I could make £30 a day I could do what I want. I don't write these days as much as I used to do with passion, now I just push them out and post them and forget. Not too sure that if I learnt about my unconscious side I wouldn't find despair and hopelessness there. Perhaps if I had ten years of therapy I could find some kind of relief, but I spent all my money doing that over a few years and got ripped off mostly. Now all I own fits in a small suitcase. I also feel fear coming as I age that I will not have anywhere to go when I'm too old to look after myself. So I go onwards and hold in the despair and fear and hope that things will work out; but I've always done that all my life and it looks like it isn't going to change. And yes, I've read suitcases of books about the secret and such, and yes I've been meditating for over 40 years, and yes etc etc... Thanks for your comment, I wish I could remember my dreams in a way that didn't do me any harm...
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Hi wales,
Visit curiesteem.com or join the Curie Discord community to learn more.
Thank you
Congratulations on the Curie @wales. A good read. Sometimes I wish I could let it flow like you do. And
A great ending - pathos, I think it's called
I like that word; you could be right
Groovy story, maaan!
Thank you very much for saying so
Congratulations @wales!
Your post was mentioned in the Steem Hit Parade in the following category:
Wow, thanks for informing me
You're welcome @wales
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a very psychodelic and inscriptive way to start a literary morning @wales, my congratulations.
Thank you, I enjoyed writing it
I got a teensy bit lost around the Renaissance, but otherwise this really resonated with me. (Well, sort of.)
That's the nature of the rabbit hole I guess
That was some good write-up in there. I like the way you spend your morning upon waking up. I believe that the first thing in the morning is your most productive day. I really find it interesting that someone has this kind of hobby and I think it is very unique. Writing something will hone your skills as a writer and your collective imagination will always contribute to it.
As for the content, I really imagine what it is like living in a very surreal world. Experiencing things that are somehow not monotonous and out of this ordinary world. They are saying that you can experience those if you try one of those psychedelic mushrooms. Maybe I would like to try one, not for recreation but for the essence of just trying it just for once and to see how it really feels.
I am looking forward to reading the next chapters of your literary work. Cheers!
Thanks; it really works, the more I do the more I do; and yes, do try a mushroom, I've been told they do the trick; I've never done them myself, maybe I should. There are times when all is mundane, but then there are times when all is magic, but I can't find the on/off switch so I just take it as it comes; but sometimes there's an undercurrent close to the surface that suggests it can be magic all the time, if only I could sink into it and let it all go...
Sunday mornings are always a great day of the week, and for me its always about roaming and playing football.....LOL
But i really like how you go about with your mornings. Such a great day it is to start them with writing. A real pool of knowledge to pour out to others.
i really enjoyed reading your blog over and over again. Each time i read it gave me a great drive of motivation. I am really glad i read your blog today. Great piece and keep the sharing spirit up always
Thanks; sometimes things flow and there's no stopping until it's all done and dusted; it's good when it's like that...
You are humbly welcome
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Heightened Spirit - I want to call you for this.
The takeaway for me is write at 7ish in morning and you might end up writing something as awesome as this. :)
Thank you