I had some thoughts on a train and wrote them down in a notebook I keep in my purse. They’re not directed at anyone in particular, so if you have an answer, an inkling, or an epiphany, let me know. 🙂
“How far away do I exist? Only within this skin? Is my physical body truly the extent of my existence? What about over there, in the air on that empty seat? Over there, on the luggage rack by the door? Do I exist in Munich or in Iceland… in Fiji?”
Is my fingertip where it all ends? If it is irrefutable that from my brain to my liver, the only person there existing is me… then do I really stop where the keratin of my fingernail meets air? Who is there between you and me? Is that the space which ‘God’ inhabits, or do we timidly, cautiously, clumsily overflow somewhere in the middle? Are the lines between us blurred, or do they blur as we talk more and more?
Are the lines between now, and next, and just gone by also blurred? Do I still exist in the pigsty in the field by the river, or did I fade from there years ago? Will I still exist here on this seat in five minutes?
And in time, when you continue to be far away and I remain physically distant… Will we separate like oil and water over the years, or will you always exist a little bit in the millimetres around my navel, the watermark on my knees, the hush behind my earlobe, the skin on the nape of my neck?
Does it matter when I’m gone? Will I ever come back?
Today I woke up too late, raged and railed at The Way Things Are, painted the Universe and then a fauvist elephant, watched the wrong person win an award, shook my musical egg as I thought about where I could find a xylophone, and read The House of the Spirits.
It’s a long book and I’m still not done. 🙂 Goodnight!