Xepera, xeper, Xeperu

"I have Come Into Being, and by the Process of my Coming In to Being, the Process of Coming Into Being Is Established."

What did you forget?

What did you forget?

 As far back as I can remember…

…I’ve forgotten something very important.

It's like I woke up on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere with a bump on my head and a particular brand of amnesia.  Which way back into town. Towards the city lights or where there are none? That isn’t what I forgot.

 

Wait.

Hang on.

Hold up.

What the fuck am I forgetting?

There's always this tinge of a thought in the deeper recesses of my mind, even beyond mind and spirit.

I forgot something.

Forgot something, really, important.

 

What did I forget to remember? Sometimes a microscopic piece comes into focus, then it’s gone again.  It's like I get a taste, see it in my mind’s eye, feel it, hold on to it, then it’s gone again.  Never grasping even an iota of what it is.

It seems to be always in motion, fleeting.  I don’t think it’s even a thought or a feeling.  It's seems like it’s somewhere between those two. Maybe it’s an understanding. A knowing. A state of being. Ineffable for sure, I think, maybe.  Just can’t seem to put my ethereal finger on it.

 

Could that be why I'm always trying to pull back layers upon layers?  Like an onion. But it's really an apple and I just don’t know it yet. I remember that apple. There are always more layers, more curtains to pull back, more veils to pierce. More bites of the fruit.  Getting to the core.  Seeking Essence in everything. It will most likely always be that way.  No final "place" of being, knowing, and understanding. And I'm ok with that. The eternal apple.  Eternity is exciting and has its privileges. 

 

This fleeting unknown memory…

 

Sometimes it’s maddening.

Increase and enhance a feeling of not remembering turning the stove off and locking the door after landing in another country not your own. Or having an everlasting ‘tip of the tongue’ word to say.  Existential crisis on pure cocaine and military grade steroids with the occasional morphine chaser. Facing the Void then unintentionally winking at each other in unison. Recognizing something unrecognizable.

 

Sometimes it’s fuel for the journey. 

Being led by the mysteries under a new moon in the middle of the night.  Alone on a boat under a new moon.  Still waters, no wind, no light.  Just a feathers-touch of a hand on the wheel. Or completely opposite.  Raging boiling waters, flesh-shredding wind, without eyelids under a sky of lasers. A black hole’s grip of a hand on the wheel. The only thing keeping me steadfast is the gravitational fuel of that unknown memory. 

But all the time…

I think it’s elegant and beautiful.  Even though I don’t know what it is.

 

I do actually seek it out. Because it sure isn’t coming back to me any time soon. 

How does one seek out what they don’t know what they’re looking for?  Remember something important that they should remember?  No idea. But I still try and won’t stop. The path or learning to remember to get there though. The ‘stroll down memory lane’, if you will, seems just as important.

 

Perhaps because human finite perception and the descriptive limitations therein can’t recognize and acknowledge the memory. Maybe the memory is there and it's in a type of code or syntax I can't even comprehend while incarnate on this muddy rock.  Maybe it’s just some sort of celestial carrot at the end of an infinite stick, that I’m holding!

 

I guess it’s back into town then.  With a bump on my head, and a particular brand of amnesia. 

Check please...

Check please...

That Conversation Bully

That Conversation Bully