Recently, I wrote about my weird feelings of wanting to be ‘everything, everyone, everywhere’. I was scared of missing out on something. I felt that words, experiences, stories were slipping out of my reach all the time.
There was a feeling of panic. I remember the anxiety on being told that books were going to be published electronically. I thought it was because I preferred the feel and smell of real pages. It’s only now that I realise what generated that unease. If you make it too easy to print, there will be too much printed. And I won’t have time to read it all.
And I want to read it all.
Anyway, the panic has been replaced with peace – just now. Because, I had an epiphany a moment ago (Black Sheep triggered it – thank you) that we are in fact, despite feelings to the contrary, ‘everything, everyone, everywhere.’
Not consciously, of course, we’d all be blowing fuses in the mind if that happened. But unconsciously. When you consider how little we use of our brain (less than 10%, is it?) it’s not an impossible idea.
Where do I end? Where’s the final edge? At my skin? I think not. There’s energy beyond that. We are all bigger than the bodies we sit in. If I am my awareness, and I am aware of something, then isn’t that part of me? If only for a moment. If only in a microscopic way? Perhaps we bloggers are all chips of colour, making up one large mosaic, creating a beautiful and profound design that can only be appreciated from far away.
It brings me comfort that thought. On some level, imagining that I’m connected to it all, even those intellectual posts in ‘politics’, the poignant photos in ‘art’, the witty words in ‘blogging’, and the odd sad post in ‘life’ that remains un-read.