First of all, I love your poem, Deborah. I also love your essay and the beautiful painting you’ve paired with this piece. Everything you’ve written here resonates deeply with me.
In addition to the two-ness I’ve inherited as an African American, a la W.E.B. Du Bois, I have also felt the psychic push-pull you’ve described so well here.
When I came across the Buddhist concept of not-two, I found it enormously helpful. But as a writer, I’m fascinated by the conundrum of divided consciousness. For the past week or so, I’ve even been working on a short story centered on this idea. It’s astonishing to come across your poem and essay at this particular time. Truly, we are all connected!
I'm so glad this all resonated with you, Andrew. That affirmation means a lot. I was thinking about that doubleness of the Black experience that others have written about so eloquently and wondered if there was any correlation with what I've experienced. I'd love to read your story on divided consciousness when you are done. It is remarkable how these ideas seem to surface simultaneously. I've been thinking about publishing my story Fine and Shimmering on Substack since I've referenced it several times. I'm a bit nervous about that. We'll see.
If you should publish Fine and Shimmering on Substack, please let me know, Deborah. I'd love to read it after I've finished writing my own short story.
I love this and your short story, Deborah. You pose interesting questions, and it made me think of a few things I have experienced.
Many years ago, I stopped smoking marijuana because I had the strange and unsettling feeling of being hyper-aware of my physicality within my surroundings. I also had a highly refined awareness of my internal, psychological, and emotional being that made me feel quite paranoid. It was no longer an enjoyable experience to smoke, and I knew it was no longer for me. One time, in particular, that I vividly remember, years ago, I was at a concert and somebody passed a joint. It was unbearable to be on the crowded floor. It was akin to an out-of-body experience where I felt I could see myself surrounded and watched by everybody. I had to eventually remove myself and stand at the back, near the mixing desk, while everything played out in front of me. I knew then that it was my last puff.
But, I have often had lucid dreaming experiences where I am strangely conscious and aware that I am dreaming yet enjoying the narrative and allowing it to continue to try and influence it. Is this the same thing?
And, reading both this post and your short story reminds me of the wonderful Marc Chagall painting 'Over the Town,' where two lovers float above their village. Is he dreaming of whisking her away (I use "he" as the artist was male), is it a metaphor for their floating, weightless and love-drenched hearts, and is their love so passionate and wonderful that they are above the harsh realities that lay below? The "otherness" of their love flight compared to the "reality" of their life back on the ground.
How interesting! Thanks for sharing these experiences. Have you heard of astral projection? t was a topic of interest back in the 60's, no doubt because of experiences like yours when high. I had two occasions when not high at all of feeling myself lift out of my body and hover above it for a short while, no longer than a minute, probably less. It was weird and exhilarating in a way because it seemed evidence of states of being beyond what we normally experience. As for lucid dreaming, I've had a couple of those experiences, but more often are dreams that seem so real it's hard to believe I was only dreaming. In one lucid dream I questioned whether I was dreaming or not, and so I picked up a rock to test its reality. I felt it in my hand, the weight, the hardness, the texture, the coolness and concluded this wasn't a dream. It was real. Until I woke. And Chagall's painting of the two lovers floating is a favorite of mine. I love the way you describe it, those weightless, love-drenched hearts.
I have heard of astral projection and astral traveling. Possibly from Alan Watts or Timothy Leary? I know those guys were certainly talking about similar things. I wonder if the experience comes from a similar part of the brain as sleep paralysis?
Your dream example with the rock is a wild experience and sensation!
That two-ness is a freaky thing. I've been on the cusp of it several times, imagined it many more. Experienced it once, but that's not for public consumption. Yet.
First of all, I love your poem, Deborah. I also love your essay and the beautiful painting you’ve paired with this piece. Everything you’ve written here resonates deeply with me.
In addition to the two-ness I’ve inherited as an African American, a la W.E.B. Du Bois, I have also felt the psychic push-pull you’ve described so well here.
When I came across the Buddhist concept of not-two, I found it enormously helpful. But as a writer, I’m fascinated by the conundrum of divided consciousness. For the past week or so, I’ve even been working on a short story centered on this idea. It’s astonishing to come across your poem and essay at this particular time. Truly, we are all connected!
I'm so glad this all resonated with you, Andrew. That affirmation means a lot. I was thinking about that doubleness of the Black experience that others have written about so eloquently and wondered if there was any correlation with what I've experienced. I'd love to read your story on divided consciousness when you are done. It is remarkable how these ideas seem to surface simultaneously. I've been thinking about publishing my story Fine and Shimmering on Substack since I've referenced it several times. I'm a bit nervous about that. We'll see.
If you should publish Fine and Shimmering on Substack, please let me know, Deborah. I'd love to read it after I've finished writing my own short story.
Thanks, Andrew, I'd love that. I'll let you know.
I love this and your short story, Deborah. You pose interesting questions, and it made me think of a few things I have experienced.
Many years ago, I stopped smoking marijuana because I had the strange and unsettling feeling of being hyper-aware of my physicality within my surroundings. I also had a highly refined awareness of my internal, psychological, and emotional being that made me feel quite paranoid. It was no longer an enjoyable experience to smoke, and I knew it was no longer for me. One time, in particular, that I vividly remember, years ago, I was at a concert and somebody passed a joint. It was unbearable to be on the crowded floor. It was akin to an out-of-body experience where I felt I could see myself surrounded and watched by everybody. I had to eventually remove myself and stand at the back, near the mixing desk, while everything played out in front of me. I knew then that it was my last puff.
But, I have often had lucid dreaming experiences where I am strangely conscious and aware that I am dreaming yet enjoying the narrative and allowing it to continue to try and influence it. Is this the same thing?
And, reading both this post and your short story reminds me of the wonderful Marc Chagall painting 'Over the Town,' where two lovers float above their village. Is he dreaming of whisking her away (I use "he" as the artist was male), is it a metaphor for their floating, weightless and love-drenched hearts, and is their love so passionate and wonderful that they are above the harsh realities that lay below? The "otherness" of their love flight compared to the "reality" of their life back on the ground.
How interesting! Thanks for sharing these experiences. Have you heard of astral projection? t was a topic of interest back in the 60's, no doubt because of experiences like yours when high. I had two occasions when not high at all of feeling myself lift out of my body and hover above it for a short while, no longer than a minute, probably less. It was weird and exhilarating in a way because it seemed evidence of states of being beyond what we normally experience. As for lucid dreaming, I've had a couple of those experiences, but more often are dreams that seem so real it's hard to believe I was only dreaming. In one lucid dream I questioned whether I was dreaming or not, and so I picked up a rock to test its reality. I felt it in my hand, the weight, the hardness, the texture, the coolness and concluded this wasn't a dream. It was real. Until I woke. And Chagall's painting of the two lovers floating is a favorite of mine. I love the way you describe it, those weightless, love-drenched hearts.
I have heard of astral projection and astral traveling. Possibly from Alan Watts or Timothy Leary? I know those guys were certainly talking about similar things. I wonder if the experience comes from a similar part of the brain as sleep paralysis?
Your dream example with the rock is a wild experience and sensation!
That two-ness is a freaky thing. I've been on the cusp of it several times, imagined it many more. Experienced it once, but that's not for public consumption. Yet.
It is freaky. Thanks for sharing that Frank. I'd love to hear more about your experience when you're ready.