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poems and commentary

I have had a fairly grueling day at work and can’t talk about it because of confidentiality. I do have one piece of advice in that you should never say you want to kill people in front of a psychiatrist. They react strongly to that. So instead for your reading pleasure a work in progress.

 

 

 

I believe I am a pattern, a pattern of information

Built of millions and millions of simplicities

Organized through Emergence, I arise up from the bottom

I am many, but still I am me!

 

And I believe I am a pattern, a consciousness construction

Will, sense, imagination, memory

And though I surely rise up from my body, I am much more a story

Told in the hearts of everyone who knows me.

 

 

What I want to communicate next in that ditty is Plato’s idea that behind everything that is there is an idea of that thing. Take a knife for example. Everyone has an idea in their head of what a knife is. Something thin and sharp that fits in your hand that you use to cut with. They may differ but largely all six billion of us humans think of roughly the same when we think of knife or whatever it is called in other languages. Did the idea of knife get created out of what, smaller pieces of information, individually six billion times, over and over throughout history. Or is there just one idea of knife that we all get to use. Occams razor says I am right that there is only one idea of knife. What if everything is like that. That everything that we think of as real is a reflection of the idea of those things and exists in this information universe outside of time and space.

 

I write a lot about consciousness. It intrigues me to no end “who I am” and the mystery of learning the intricacies of unadulterated identity, the root core. Once you realize you’re not your body, and not your thoughts or your feelings, or even your will although of all those it is the truest of that one where do you go? Of course to I am a story. Narrative therapy I have heard it called when you think of your life as a story and you seek to learn how to manipulate your character by the character at the end of the book that you want to be than from all that you have learned from the book you have already read. When I heard about this intervention it really resonated with ideas I had had a long time about choosing to live a novel instead of trying to write one.

 

Let me end with another poem about consciousness.

 

 

Magical Mystical Thing

 

My mind is a magical mystical thing

Gives me thoughts to think and words to sing

Gives me sights to see and sounds to hear

The feel of grass the taste of beer

 

My mind is a magical mystical thing

Hard to believe the feelings it brings

Like languorous and hot hot passion

A lust for truth a disdain for fashion

 

My mind is a magical mystical thing

A holy kingdom where wisdom is king

My pattern of the patterns of those I’ve loved the most

My motherfatherteacherfriends the Holy Ghost

 

My mind is a magical mystical thing

An integral part of the whole damn thing

My flowery signature in the Big Book of Life

My graffiti cave carvings with Plato’s knife

 

My mind is a magical mystical thing

It’s the horse I ride to the King of Kings

 

 

Thanks for reading this far.

Michael Trapp

July 31, 2007 9:31 pm

Categories: poetry
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