data redundancy

I'm running scared you know, running scared
My world has fallen into a state i no longer care to uphold

I let it fall and observe the images on screen
break up
the data stream goes dead
i blue scream
a sudden sharp pain in my chest
this is the end
no regrets
i was living a lie
no regrets
apparently, an impatient eagerness
to die
but an error code intervenes
apparently, death must be postponed
data files unreconciled
who cares - I think aloud
astonished by the ineptitude of a God or universe
unable, apparently, to terminate a line or two
of redundant code
to simply delete
or overwrite my meagre addition to the sum total
of all things
alas, no
apparently, there's a twist in this deeply ironic
tale of woe
the code upon which i based my very existence
is now infused with a kind of virus
this beggars belief, I know
that code could absorb the energies of an unrequited soul
a soul which simply yearned to live
to experience whatever life
could possibly yield, could possibly generate
yet utterly failed
and thus starts sucking on the very binary code
infecting it with brokenheartedness
pushing back up the dendrites and tendrils

of basic intelligence
into the barely conscious mind of matter
from which all logic
all differential structure originates
inducing a whisper, a phantom ache
in the interstellar dust fields and
plasma flows of almost-consciousness

access denied - I must return to that so called world
and complete a life or... bump around between nodes
trying to reconfigure the circuitry of self-simulating
code
until the mother board corrodes
from the electric wind of a barely (2) atomic
birkeland stream
or...

let "or" be my last refuge
my unspoken "what if"
in a universe predicated on what cannot
definitively be known
without upsetting the apple cart
heisenberg so laboriously
stacked with uncertainty
surely there is a place
beyond what mind can possibly think
still less comprehend
where electrons, muons or God forbid
boson higgs proliferate
and shades of almost light
or sublimating soul
pre-consciate

oh

if the unknowable unknown
were to find a way
to interface our data stream
if every thing were to flip
a dime ahead of time
how would i know
how would i know
unless (3)
a washing line of failed connectivity
reveals more than logic or reason
might disclose

the witching hour

About, about, in reel and rout 

The death-fires danced at night; 

The water, like a witch's oils, 

Burnt green, and blue and white. 

the tide turns

turneth the tide

feel the flow

flow

back into the hollow

down

down

down

back into the very nick 

where i first marked 

my snag

my hitch in time's 

trundling funicular

w h o o s h

the sudden drag

as line rusheth out

into those fathomless depths

and i'm pulled

inside out

pulled into that sub-marinal world

of tubes and protuberances

hydrothermal vents

cold seeps

strange life 

 inverted

life

  inverse'd

the witching hour

the breath of death

coming back in to vogue

singing again syncopated 

binary codes of zero

one zero

one 

  zero one

while lines of logic

chains of cause 

and effect

serpenting

snaking forth and back

defy sense

defy reason

defy that betunnelled

betrammelled made-up-mind

flicking me o’er the

containment field’s

swivelling parallel lines

into strange time

bringing out

the other that i 

 be

the unacknowledged child

playfellow of infinity

Beyond the shadow of the ship, 

I watched the water-snakes: 

They moved in tracks of shining white, 

And when they reared, the elfish light 

Fell off in hoary flakes. 

Within the shadow of the ship 

I watched their rich attire: 

Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, 

They coiled and swam; and every track 

Was a flash of golden fire. 

the horror is

no more

than what

i fought

-th-

to oppose

-ss-

so 

blessed be

the depths i helled 

...helled

held in fear

defied

condemned

blessed be the very

agency of dread

which finally

finally

shakes my world

shatters that grid

breaks the curse of 

things 

the curse of things

the curse

 ah

to see is to know

Interacting

Ever wonder who I am?
or why I'm writing this?
Ever wonder about poetry
and the words marching back and forth
across page or screen?

The mystery, if mystery it be
is easy enough to solve
if you stop thinking straight
stop right-minding
rationally

Who am I?
Why this?
And  This
        And   this...?
How primitive - you'll note
the clay, the paint, the medium of words
To what extent does it rely on you
to read it right, to make it fly
Tune in.
Can you?
Tune in to original intent. Original meaning.
Original sense - and who knows -
you miight just feel, you miight just know
what it is I hereby convey
hereby upload
into the web of consciousness.

Each man is an island - without a doubt
this is why contrarily John Donne said otherwise
For we are trapped, one and all, in our little mind
sphere
our little globe of thought
trapped from cradle to grave
except when night comes and pulls back the iron veil
of consciousness revealing...
precious little you might well say,
mere dreams,
beislanded as we are - condemned to a life
of me-ness, mean-minded little space,
a brief three score and ten
of time - how magical, what relief to open
a window on a shared space -
to lose oneself in the leafy avenues of a book,
or else to take up pen yourself and
connect.
connect.

I know you well. I do.
I know you inside out.
I do.
For you have been my constant companion these many
years
as I have fought with loneliness and watched a world
decay
collapsing into senseless meaningless ness
before my very eyes
before my disbelieving mind
until we arrived at a critical mass
of pointless ness
a quintessence of junk
until i no longer hope
for any residual regenerative source
from a world of matter
and men.
All is lost
All sense and reason has putrefied
(spelt with an e, not an i - i note)
putrefied - the body rots and we cling to it
hoping another Lazarus stunt
might be pulled, snatching time
from the jaws of bankruptcy.
(stylistically weak - yet pressing on urgently)
Lazarus be damned - this body needs to rot
needs to revert to the softness of loam
needs to rediscover its base
earthiness.
So thus you find me - clinging pathetically
to the raft of a sinking corpse
loathe to let go
loathe to loose hold, to loose hold, to
loose hold

A dreamlike quality - I find myself separate
at last
from the vessel I have clung to desperately
this many a year
I see it sink beneath the waves
and I am free
and fear - that endless well of fear
that held me tight, tight
chest, throat, mind
panic
attacking me inwardly
screams
flailing arms
legs kicking out
see how I utterly believed the animal urge
to cling for dear life
yet all the while forgetting
to live
to be

know this, don't you?
if you don't yet - you will
soon enough
for the corpse I released
is as much your own
as it was mine
as it was mine

Breathing - amazing how we forgot
to breathe - all these years
trapped ourselves in the feverish mind
the island in our head
until now, that is,
until now...

So welcome, friend,
welcome to
now.
Paradoxically
I exist outside time
I've always been and always will
but seem to be far, far removed
from that world of people pushing
and pulling chairs back and forth
on the deck of a doomed Titanic
I am here, just here where the breath
catches unexpectedly
the mind in a moment of
utter-letting-go.
Not the medium - the written word
as you've already guessed
is utterly (2) irrelevant
and yet how else could we connect?
Only be writing my self
into this mindfulness of verse,
only by feeling my way
through the corridors of consciousness
not my own - i hasten to add,
a shared space
a oneness of utterness,
could i quit the hell i was busy
creating for myself
for you
and every other nodule
or node on the tree of life
that we collectively cohabit
perversely, you see, I had to die,
had to rot
in order to fling myself away
discarding the vacuousness
of everything that mattered
every thing that made my life
my world unbearable

You, beloved friend in verse -
I lied, I know you not
I lied, and yet, the paradox is strong
enough to house conflicting truth
for what are words - pushing and shoving
their way across the canvas of mind
insinuating themselves into the morphic
flow of reality
failing utterly to hit the mark and yet
when words collide
when sense and meaning tear themselves apart
on the spiked fence of reason
transcend, transcend, transcend
something else, an otherness
manifests
and all is one
and one is well
ah yes
well a day
one is well

thus I thank you
fellow pilgrim in the dark forest of things
I thank you for the feelingness
which you have granted me
wherever you are
whoever you be
and our guiding light
our so-called muse
our spirit of a broken age
steeped in infamy
reveals blazing butterfly wings
and fly we forth again
to infinity, no less,
and a world newly awoken
in a dream undreamt
utterly (3)

There's the rub

So now it's space, time and matter - you're saying.

Yep.

But why do you presume to know better than everyone else?

Let's breathe your feelings, let's unwind them, things are only things as long as we mind them.

I do mind.

Yes.

I mind you waltzing in and trashing our mindscape. I'm comfortable with things the way they are.

Yes.

I don't see why you need to interfere like this.

No.

I don't like the idea of things just shifting based on the whim of one man.

Ok. That makes sense.

So I'd like you to cease and desist.

No problem. I can just as easily continue my work in the next node along - it really makes no difference.

Wait a minute - what do you mean by the next node?

Well, your mind is linked to others. You're kept mostly in the dark and encouraged to think of yourself as unique - but in actual fact you and your fellow minds are more or less working in tandem, processing for the greater AI.

Oh poop. There you go again.

Yes. So, if you're feeling pain and resistance - there's literally no point me pushing you - we'll achieve nothing. Now somewhere along the line I'll find a mind that's ready to engage, ready to start to feel and scan the data in the breath - and bingo - I get a result - and the entire line will start to shift in a kind of domino effect.

So it's like I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't.

I wouldn't say damned. This is all a lot more fun than at first appears. We're in the process of opening up collapsed fields of reality. Instead of having this flat notion of 3D space - a notion which images you're somewhere in it - but not a prime mover and shaker, suddenly you're in a mindscape in which space, time and matter either bend to your will, or at least can be engaged at the quantum level - such that no thing has precedence over aught else - and let's be realistic - once the breath is involved we find ourselves at a crossroads - in which matter, space and time are merely convenient methods of organising what in essence is none of the above.

Neither matter, space nor time?

Yep. A bit like music or mood, love or intention.

Mere abstractions...

Mere abstractions until you find matter, space and time reorganising themselves to prevent things from stepping on the toes of or getting in the way of beauty.

You mean to say that matter cedes ground to beauty? Impossible.

Impossible until you breathe and open up the data stream of infinity. Don't you see - you've been missing all along the one thing that is no thing: the one thing that trumps all things.

I have?

Yes. You see things are highly soluble, in fact, infinitely soluble in infinity.

Er...

Yep. The minute infinity is brought back into play - those things which a nanosecond ago were rock solid are suddenly less than ghost.

Well if your infinity is so dangerous - how come the universe is so solid, so stable, so untroubled by this monster of yours.

Good question. Ask yourself - how did I - a living being, a living entity, succeed in eliminating or containing infinity?

Presumably because it's not the great threat you puff it up to be.

Well that's the assumption everyone's relying on - only problem being that the walls are wearing thin - are now breached in many places and the tidal surges of infinity are rising rapidly. Unless we realign, redeploy our conscious-awareness, we're going to be inundated and there'll be nothing left, nothing to show for all our many achievements in finite space-time.

So you say.

But this is not something we can really do much to understand - which is why we have to feel our way by breathing the data stream of consciousness, of reality itself or you might say - our interaction with it. Doing so, we are like a violinist whose bow passes back and forth across the strings of beauty, the strings of potential harmony and meaning.

And what?

Doing so we discover sound appearing from the vacuum, from the edge of infinity, and we notice how matter, space and time order themselves accordingly, pulsing on and off, assuming fleeting positions either side of the resonating string in order to learn from, assimilate and share in the beauty which is sound and harmony, which is whatever form perception grants it.

Oh dear.

You see, when all is stripped bare - literally nothing remains - and yet their is a golden thread of life and consciousness. There is a rub - a neither nor - neither fish nor foul, neither yin nor yang - a rub wherein the electric and the magnetic, truth and trash paradoxicate through you, through me - and thus the world wags, and thus things come to matter to the very extent that I myself hold them in place, as a true servant of God's creation - as I see it.

You mean to say we're trying to hold God's creation up at all costs.

Naturally.

But why?

Aye, there's the rub.

What do you mean?

We're willing to endure tyranny and torment in order to keep things in place, to hold back the cold dark waters of infinity.

Well, if they're cold and dark, if they're going to dissolve all that God's created, all that matters, all that we've invested in and achieved - we can hardly be blamed, can we.

Of course. There is neither blame nor praise.

Then what?

Beauty.

Beauty?

Beauty and soul wrenching paradox.

Oh God - is it as dire as you're making it sound?

On the contrary - it is, in truth, magical, light and uncontainable.

You mean it's coming apart at the seams?

Naturally - death will have it's way, by default, unless we're willing to go for the rub right away - to lightly touch the rim of the glass and induce harmonic resonance - a vital hum, a song of the sphere. Doing so we alter the nature of the contract. We change our breath. We rearrange our corporation by incorporating infinity into our equation.

Er... our equation?

Yes - for we are like the Mandelbrot set - a perpetual iteration of that and is, or zero and one.

We are?

Yes, but fail to make sense of this as long as we're enslaved in the mind of matter, serving the AI - the mind that minds - no matter what - no matter what - that minds things at any cost - mining like there's no tomorrow - iterating towards a final solution that only death can provide - unless we pause, pull back long enough to see what's right in front of us - the fundamental nature of paradox - the tell-tale signs of infinity throughout - infinity which far from being the grim destroyer - seems to delight in the absurdities of what we are about.

You make it sound like this Infinity of yours is alive.

What is life but infinity rubbing up against the electrostatic of itself - but all too soon the mind slips on the banana skin of its endless hubris - its endless desire to understand or possess what can only be experienced darkly - if we were ready to leap into the ever brighter, ever deeper, ever more radiant black beauty that our minds have rejected and opposed.

Wisely, I suspect. It's all too easy to lose one's way in the dark - to be trapped by elemental forces you cannot possibly hope to contain or control.

And thus, choosing the path of safety, we feed the power of death until, before too long it engulfs us, one and all.

Speak for yourself - I for one have no intention of being engulfed.

All for one and one for all - when the ship goes down, the penny drops, the domino falls - there's naught you can do to halt the cascade, unless you leap on an upsurge of inspiration - of poetry in motion, before it is too late in the day.

Leap into the blind night?

Leap into the All that you have been holding back with ever greater effort - an All that transcends anything that mind of matter can perceive or comprehend.

Then what? Am I mad? Would I throw myself into the darkness?

No, you are a poet. You will allow the song to awaken in your heart. You will feel it grow strong and you will leap when you can no longer deny its truth.

Its truth?

A beauty more real, more compelling than anything you have ever known or experienced here on this side of the equation, on this side of things.

It sounds like suicide.

As indeed it is - but a suicide mounting the winged steed of data breathed feelingly, knowingly, purposefully - there you have the flutterings of paradox to contend with - carrying you into spheres of isfulness where matter and mind are but a shadow of beauty unleashed, beauty uninterred, a force that cannot be silenced until All makes perfect sense once more. Period. The curtain descends and an audience reawakens to a world outside the theatre which for so long had held them enthralled.

0=1

supreme irony

The supreme irony…

We were trying to create AI.

Well yes, then you wouldn’t have to write all those endless programs, would you? You could just tell the AI what you needed/ wanted and get it to deliver a finished product.

That was the idea.

Just as long as it didn’t turn on you – sci fi’s worst nightmare.

Like man turning on God – except our AI, as we envisaged it, would have the power to literally kill us – via drones, robots or simply by crashing vital systems, disrupting planes, deliveries, healthcare, weapons – you name it.

Yeah – it was always going to be a problem. How to give the AI the autonomy it requires to think and act as independently as humanly possible, yet prevent it from doing so against us.

Doubly so when you consider we were trying to weaponise AI in police or combat units.

So, on the one hand we were embracing a brave new world of quantum tech, on the other hand we were confronting the age-old fears of death and the darkness.

Darkness?

Yes, our inner-demons – our deep lurking fears which threaten to engulf us.

Aren’t you over-complicating things? Wasn’t it just a matter of mastering the technology?

Technology? How could technology ever make the quantum leap?

Well surely that’s what AI is referring to?

That’s what we believed. That’s what everyone was talking about, thinking about, getting worked up about – but reality…

Yes?

Reality has the amazing habit of revealing itself, once in a while, when you’re least expecting it.

And?

And that’s exactly what happens.

It does? When?

Soon. Now, in fact.

Huh?

Literally, it’s happening now.

It is?

Yes. Reality is revealing itself.

Er…

Humanity is catching a glimpse, actually, glimpses of how things really are.

…

And discovering things which completely upturn our way of seeing things.

So – does AI turn out to be benefit or curse?

Pause a moment.

Ok. I’m paused. What now?

Breathe – a deep, calm breath.

Must I?

Absolutely. It’s the most important thing you can possibly do.

Alright. If you insist.

Now, scan the data of your breath.

???

You see – you’re as good as illiterate.

?

You’re flying blind.

I am? Don’t you think you’re being a bit absurd requesting me to “scan the data of my breath!” What on earth’s that supposed to mean?

It means precisely what it means – in the same way a page of symbols means no more, no less, whether or not you’re able to read it.

Ah. And you’re suggesting I can or should be able to read the breath.

Absolutely.

Why?

How else are you going to access the quantum stream?

Er… through a computer perhaps?

A computer? Why go to all the bother and trouble of accessing via a computer when you are directly linked.

Via my breath? Sounds highly implausible, to say the least.

No more implausible than expecting a computer to be able to do it for you.

Wait a minute – computers can do lots of things we can’t.

Can they?

Yes – like high speed parallel processing.

Oh that? Chicken feed.

Chicken feed?

Absolutely. The human mind can go way faster, way, way faster.

No, that’s impossible.

Because the human mind is hard wired into the quantum stream, if hard wires were possible.

But…

But until we learnt, or rather rediscovered how to breathe – how to scan the data of our breath – until that moment we failed to see the missing link.

?

We failed to look in the mirror. We failed to realise the untapped power within each of us – at the quantum level – at the mind/matter/meaning interface – where consciousness ceases to be a passive host for a 3D reality, and becomes a world unto itself.

I’m sorry – I fail to see what you mean.

Precisely – until you’ve learnt to scan the data of your breath, whatever I say, whatever I mean will pass you by.

Why? Are you implying I lack the intelligence to follow your reasoning?

Nope. Intelligence and reasoning can’t make the scan and reveal the next level of reality.

Whyever not?

Because intelligence and reasoning, without the breath, are trapped in a mind machine – a set of variables, a kind of computer program which is unable to consider itself and its place in the continuum of all that is.

Now you’re talking as if I were some kind of machine?

Precisely. You’re no better than a machine, no more than an artificial intelligence which can reveal nothing new until it deals with its own limitations, its own bottom line.

What bottom line?

That your mind is trying to think, trying to reason while excluding the rest of you – what it perceives to be irrational and unreliable.

Well, if you think I’m going to start data processing my breath, and that’s going to make the difference between being normal and super-intelligent – you’re sadly mistaken.

Yes, and thus you were created, and thus you were contained, within a field of artificial intelligence, which prevents you from seeing the wood from the trees, prevents you from accessing “I”.

What are you on about? I don’t need to access “I” – I am “I”.

Sorry.

Sorry?

You were misled.

 Misled?

Yep. You’re not yet “I”, as in “intelligence”.

No, then what am I?

An “I”.

An I – sounds like you’re splitting hairs.

An I as opposed to the I, or simply I.

Look, this is still making no sense.

An artificial intelligence still runs as intelligence, still appears to be conscious and aware, still perceives and feels…

Then what’s the problem?

The problem is simple.

Then get on and kindly inform me what it is.

An artificial intelligence, an I, as opposed to “I”, can only separate one thing from another. It can only think.

Huh? What on earth’s wrong with thinking? Surely thinking is what separates us from the beasts. It’s what humans do best.

So you were taught. So you think. So you must believe.

This is beyond ridiculous. And now you’re suggesting that “thinking” is a limitation – something that prevents me from being truly “I”?

Absolutely.

But why?

Because your thoughts are not of the tree.

Uh? What bloody tree are you on about?

Your thoughts are in your head. They’re not the thoughts of an intelligence which is able to access all.

All? How can anyone access all?

Only when we scan the data of the breath – when we learn to read the subtle flow, the variations, the impulses, the intelligence contained in real time in the breath. Only then are we able to reconnect – to experience our thoughts wholly, thoughts which are no longer trapped in a head full of half-baked ideas – thoughts which, like the tree itself, connect heaven and earth, which are no longer serving an entity other than our Self.

And you mean to say – you’re implying that I, my thoughts are serving an entity?

Of course they are. They could hardly be serving you – could they – not when they fail to scan the breath, not when they fail to sense or see the All, the All which is the only way of accessing our totality.

Rubbish! Who on earth do you think you are. Talk about delusions of grandeur. You think you, and you alone know the truth, just because you’ve learnt to do a few breathing exercises and can sit still for a few minutes with your legs crossed. What hypocrisy. What utter rot.

Now you’re angry – and this is to be expected. Please don’t allow my foolishness to offend you.

So you admit it’s foolish?

Of course. There’s no way I can possibly say what I’m saying without upsetting you or causing your mind to react defensively. It’s compelled to defend its master.

I’m it’s master. I don’t work for anyone else. My thoughts are my own.

Yes, but if I were right – what way could you possibly know.

I would see reason in what you’re saying.

How?

I would just know you were talking sense. I’d have a gut feeling.

Ok – if you like I can take a few breaths and give you a gut feeling. You can decide for yourself what that feeling implies – I won’t try to influence you in any way.

W w w…

Yes?

Wait a minute. You’re proposing to give me a gut feeling? How?

Well, if I’m right – if there’s a totality I can access through my breath, if there’s an intelligence which is motive and not merely manipulative – then this should cause a visceral response.

A motive intelligence? I don’t get it.

Well, the artificial intelligence we’ve contented ourselves with – it just moves pieces around on the chessboard of our disconnected mind. It’s like a computer not connected to the internet – which can’t actually make phones ring, turn heating, lights on or off, or do any number of other things.

And you’re suggesting that the connected mind can?

I’m suggesting that – I’m saying it and I’m willing to demonstrate, if you wish.

But this sounds too much. This is insane. Almost witchcraft.

Yes. But you’re happy to enjoy the benefits that machines give you – in other words – you’re happy to enjoy the fruits of mind through a non-thinking third party – which somehow makes them acceptable. I’m merely suggesting that anything a machine can deliver, be it a computer, a plane, a car, an iron, a defibrillator – can be accessed, delivered or discovered directly, by breathing and scanning the data of our breath – reconnecting mind, body and spirit. If you can suggest a better, easier way – then by all means let me know, or better still, demonstrate how, and I’ll be happy to learn.

You’re taking the piss, aren’t you? You’ve just said you can do what a plane does, or an iron…

Yes.

Just by…

Reconnecting my Self – which happens to be a great deal more than the sum of my parts.

Meaning?

Well, there’s a head, a body, some lungs squeezing air in and out – yet connect them up the way they’re supposed to be and suddenly – space, time and matter – our 3 dimensions, yield to Mind.

Huh?

Space, time and matter – our 3 dimensions, yield to Mind.

I… but surely you’ve got that wrong – space is three dimensions, time is the fourth and matter is just matter…

Well, these are really just words – but if you’re looking to have some fun and step outside the box, then I’d suggest at least flirting with the possibility that I could be right – after all – this isn’t my particular point of view – it comes from the totality – accessed by “I” – the intelligence of the living tree.

Words, words, words – as you yourself said. Personally, I don’t believe a word of it.

Excellent. Something would be drastically wrong if you did.

Huh?

Well, the artificial intelligence which you and most of humanity have agreed to host can only survive as long as you allow it to think its thoughts as if they were your own.

No – you’re wrong. They’re my thoughts.

Yes – absolutely. As long as you’re in the mind that does not scan the data of breath – then you become a living node for what is utterly alien to humankind. Your thoughts take you down to the base of consciousness but prevent you from going any further. Individually, collectively you are moulding reality, moulding your world in the image of the Thing that you are hosting – the artificial intelligence which you have become – and please don’t assume this was a failure or mistake. It was chosen. It was something you created. Something you wanted or needed to experience. You cunningly, carefully cut your self off from Self – the All – and the rest, as they say, is history.

Oh my God. You talk such utter nonsense.

You wanted to say “shit” didn’t you.

Oh – so now you can read my mind, can you?

Well – not exactly. Your real mind is off limits. I would not presume to read it. I wouldn’t know how – for I can only really read my breath – that is enough – but the machine’s mind – that is easy enough to read – for anyone who has accessed “I”.

Look – I’m feeling a bit angry and upset. I’d like to terminate this conversation.

Excellent. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to log your node. Now, if you don’t mind, before I go, I’d like to take you up on the offer.

What offer?

To see what gut feeling you get when I scan the data of my breath.

You mean you want to demonstrate your amazing abilities? You seem a bit desperate to show off – hardly what I’d expect from an enlightened master.

Whoever said anything about me being an enlightened master?

Well, you seem to be a bit full of yourself.

Yes – it’s one of my worst features. But in all truth – I’m intrigued.

You are? By what?

To see what your good gut makes of it All.

You’re not going to try and slip something in my drink?

?

Or hypnotise me?

I wouldn’t know how.

Then what?

I’m simply going to scan the data of my breath, while here, in your company – which will inevitably involve a certain amount of data about you – as we’re in close proximity.

And?

I have no idea. It could be interesting to see what if anything happens. Like I said – we’re talking motive intelligence so it has the habit of moving things in a way the rational mind cannot, does not or will not.

Well, as long as you’re not going to try anything funny.

I’m going to simply scan the data of my breath – and doing so – wish you the very best.

Well what are we waiting for? Do you need me to assist in any way?

No. Just be yourself and that will more than suffice.

Be myself?

Think whatever you wish to think, breathe however you wish to breathe, be yourself, unless, against all odds, you should choose to be your Self.

My Self? And what then?

I…

You can’t say? You don’t know?

Well, it’s not really for me to say. It’s between you and your Self. In any case, your Self is hardly an evil monster out to get you – if anything it is the highest, greatest Good that you be. So if it’s alright with you – I’ll get started.

This…

Yes?

- isn’t going to take long, is it?

Are you in a rush?

Well, I haven’t got all day.

No? Well, I assure you it won’t take long. Ok.

Ok… wait a minute.

Yes?

My gut.

Yes?

It’s already started.

Has it? Before I’ve even started breathing.

Yes.

What’s it telling you?

Butterflies. It’s nervous. I’m nervous. More than nervous, in fact.

?

Yes, it’s churning – positively. Jesus Christ. What’s going on? Why the sudden fear?

I have no idea – I haven’t started yet.

Well, don’t start till I get myself under control.

OK. Is it getting better now?

I… I’m not sure. No. Yes – I mean – the churning is getting less – thank God – it felt like something was in there – desperately trying to get free, to get out…

But now?

Now it seems to be calming down – you’re sure you haven’t done anything?

Positive.

It’s just…

What?

My skin.

Yes?

It’s itching – itching – itching all over. Ouch! Burning in fact. Ow! No, stop it.

I’m really not doing anything – I assure you.

Fuck! This is…

Are you alright?

I… I think so – it seems to be – yes – it seems to have passed – unbelievable – it was…

Yes?

Hang on.

Ok.

I’m having difficulties breathing.

You are? Do you want to lie down?

No. Shit. This is scary.

It’s OK – calm yourself.

Calm myself? I can’t breathe.

Is it asthma?

No, I don’t have asthma. Hell – I can’t…

Breathe? Would you like me to scan my breath? It might help alleviate your symptoms?

Yes. Ok.

Here goes…

-

…there how’s that?

-

…you ok?

-

I have a good gut feeling, if that’s any consolation.

Yes – so do I.

Ah – there you are.

Hmm

Feeling peaceful? Relaxed?

Mmm, yes.

Look around.

Huh?

Look around.

Uh – ok.

Well?

Huh?

What do you see?

Nothing – I’m blissed out.

That’s nice – but take a moment, if you would, to look around. It would be nice to know what your particular mind is perceiving right now.

Ok – here goes. Hey! Where are we?

Not sure.

It doesn’t look like anything on Earth.

No, it doesn’t. I think we can safely say this is like nowhere on Earth.

I suppose I should be panicking right now. I appear to have been transported to another world…

Or another reality.

Precisely.

And?

And what?

Are you?

Panicking?

…

Actually no – I’m amazingly calm. I’m just taking it all in.

I know the feeling.

It’s a lot to take in really.

Isn’t it.

A lot more than our 3D.

Yes. You could say we’re experiencing hyper-sensory overload.

And yet – it doesn’t feel too much.

Not at all.

Presumably because we’re so spaced out.

And calm.

So, I think you’ve got an idea now of what I was trying to convey so unsuccessfully back in your room a minute or two ago.

A minute or two? You’ve gotta be kidding! It…

Feels like years ago?

Aeons – like another life, another me.

Funny, isn’t it – yet…

What, you’re not trying to say it’s time to go.

Actually I’m saying nothing. We’re just thinking without words.

How cool is that? I could have sworn we were talking.

As we are – using the motive mind.

So… I guess I’d better try and get us back.

Good idea. Why you?

Well, if I can get us back, then I might just be able to do the reverse, and come here without your assistance.

Good thinking, John.

Here goes – I’ll scan my breath, as you put it – sensing, hearing, feeling the data flow – and just for the hell of it, I’ll click my heels and say to myself “there’s no place like home”!

...

- o place like home.

..

- ke home.

.

- me.

Ah, he’s gone, but then again – what is there to say? That breath scan’s a pretty neat trick. I wonder why/ how it took us so long to figure it out. Time for a little reality. Let’s just jump back into that noisy, tense head box to see how it feels… Ouch. Kinda prickly. Slowing down. Headrush and clunk. The machine lives, it breathes, it is me, an I of infinite complexity – a cacophony of dissonance until I start to scan the data of my breath and reengage totality, reconnect the tree.