Phenomenal Experience (2011)

“Phenomenal Experience”



Now I’m called from beyond the grave, with a question. It's a query that, since the days Newton wondered how it is color appears to the mind at all, we’ve yet to answer.
For, how does anything appear in the mind, for that matter? How does one even ask?

It appears to me, for example, Abbie, my sister, according to a message from her husband, my best friend, Nate, experienced brain death at 6:06 am California time. My next call, then, goes to him.

Soon, we’ll be calling her. Calling her to come back....or at least, stake out for us where she’s gone. I suppose initiating the Phenomenal Experience Program mediates the physical reaction of shock. It’s the beginning of nothing, however. Is there a place where nothing begins---and what is its relationship to existing, sentient beings?

This one action sets into motion our lives’ work: to discover oneself, not only here, but outside what we accept as life---another word we struggle to ...precisely define. Like death.

Finding the genie; it’s true, as T. H. Huxley put it, Aladdin’s lamp is no less amazing than cogito, ergo sum!

“How one gathers a mind,” is an answer now about to emerge from its gray being. What's hidden? How do we survive in the velocity of awareness? What is our location in No Thought? Grief. Shock. Rambling. “Looks like I picked a bad day to quit smoking.”

**

As I processed this, Life's continued happening since. Each message, unknowingly in my context, holds more, a reality free to contain our own reality. My part as observer was truly written by choice a lifetime ago.

We’re never guaranteed tomorrow; we’ve saved what we know and theorized how we know, and all we’ve got must be enough for Abbie.
Earth, water, fire and air. Where my friend are you now?

How did it happen for you years ago, Uncle Anton? Clinically, Grandpa was dead for twenty minutes and without medicine, without science, you...brought him...back to life. What happened over the last will and testament is hilarious to this day.

Aunt Anelle was right. It’s like those people that had the car accident right outside the gates of your home saw the plaque with your name and said, “let’s have it right here: this doctor, I hear, can raise the dead!”
It’s an honor to be the one person to share the greatest and most personal of secrets. How does one recognize a person in the dark? How great can the challenge of visibility be, when we talk about the imaginative limits that must ever expand and leap empty handed into the unknown?

We wouldn’t be doing an experiment if we knew. It’d be called an operation or something. I’ve got to go pee.

I’ve been up for...hahaha! Whew, deep breath, Janaka, old son; you’re due at the airport in Hong Kong. I told the fewest people who need to know, so I can disappear to my life’s work--- a regular enough occurrence, without sharing... about Abbie.

Don’t know if the shock’s offset by sheer preparation; we’re five years ahead of our time, but oh if we could’ve been here, five years before when they married.

My confederates, I trust to do their part; my detractors, theirs. Already, they fell into the fringes of my abandoned normal life the moment I heard the words “brain dead.”

I am not brain dead. Servants drive me with backroad blinding speed to the airport, my mind on mini vacations, to simply soak in deep breaths of solace, committed beyond exhaustion to reach Nate. I am reaching out to the familiar place in my mind where both live every day, united in purpose: pioneering the human consciousness, in ways that make Columbus seem like a spirited boy playing at the edge of the backyard, where he’s been asked to stay for safety’s sake.

I run a habitual diagnostic of my physical being, suitable to my very public side, founding the primary software design firm in the islands of the Indian Ocean, intellectually universal if still modestly funded.

Why not forget the odds against contacting my sister’s mind with nothing short of a state-of-the-art ouija board, or we’ll bring some Cthullian horror back in her place? I refuse to stake certainty upon an end that common sense tells me I must accept.

I accept it all only in a Schrodinger-approved paradox, that’s allowed me and all of us to be dead in my imagination, as well as simultaneously elsewhere alive. I figured incorporate death into the possibilities, and when all else fails, be stubborn as possible!

Part two next!

Follow this blog

Our search exposes our deepest fears: Phenomenal Experience, pt. 3

Phenomenal Experience draft continues:

These life experiences and death experiences come; why not make serious decisions, then laugh the rest of the way down the road of one’s choosing? Nate and Abbie had doctorates at 24 and 25, respectively, but where would they be, without my inspiration?!? Adopted older brother, the black sheep necessary to sacrifice for the survival of the tribe. Martial arts, theoretical star drives, shamanism, comic books, sci-fi and affable antisocial tendencies; chatting up birds and using the rules when at all I could. America was like a rocket from Krypton for me, and ol’ Janaka became the boogie man used to keep Abbie “buttoned down,” the instinctually drama-free kid.


Abbie and I believe in each other. She observed me constructing lies to cover myself and practically joking, but as time went on I connected with what she had to say back to me. Happily, she advised the iteration of my software efforts as an application of rather simple A.I. programs coordinated to perform the gathering of the human consciousness from whence it comes.


By thirty, I’d had the shit kicked out of me, and was ready to do the Capricorn thing and bloom late. A revelation in programming set the tone for founding MJBR Inc. I kept the best stuff for us to play with. We reviewed data regarding the neural assimilation of the subconscious. We got into vigorous discussions of occasional discordant nature regarding holographic maps of the brain/thought/universe.
Nate showed me, you will never be happy until it’s your own life. Their love made sunshine and rain fall and for them, I swear I once made time stand still. We made and kept future memories. What is living forever, when living and forever surpass definition? A snapshot of brainwaves held all the charm of a quick photo booth at the fair.


Our search exposes our deepest fears for the cowards they make of our conscience and we reach out, we make contact with the version of our selves beyond where we fear we might reach termination, and trust more weight on the forward foot while achieving precarious balance in steps, clinically planned, walking the swamp. Its bottom we’ll know if there’s no other fate, and if lost we’ll be to creation, at least we will no longer be destroyed. But, as they say, if our calculations are correct...

The Pacific Ocean. Two miles above is our trajectory’s ballistic apex, shot by the choice that pulled me from home, where I’d be chatting with girls or downloading movies in my special underwear, sends me quite helplessly around the globe in hours headed towards yesterday.


I pass the time with unending images of the kindness I saw between and from Nate and Abbie, spin through pictures of how much two kids can recognize true love and hold on. I listen to songs in my head from the movies we watched together, laugh quietly to myself at the British comedies and Star Trek and Ranma ½ and Lois & Clark on in my dorm room as they’d visit, Nate digging into my books or ninja weapons and me bumming a smokie from Abbie’s roll-yer-own pouch ---a bad habit we started together. She quit and I’m quitting, I swear, and I remember her talking to me about the better feeling and the chance at longer life and her dear sweet love of irony and the little boy thought I will never see her alive again vanishes with the single tear rolling down my cheek in the shadowed night flight, as I softly hum the theme from M*A*S*H beside an empty seat next to no one in particular.

Follow this blog

Phenomenal Experience continues

Life's continued happening since I processed this. Each message, unknowingly in my context, holds more, a reality free to contain our own reality. My part as observer was truly written by choice a lifetime ago. We’re never guaranteed tomorrow; we’ve saved what we know and theorized how we know, and all we’ve got must be enough for Abbie.

Earth, water, fire and air. Where my friend are you now?

How did happen, Uncle Anton? Clinically Grandpa was dead for twenty minutes and without medicine, without science, you...brought him...back to life. What happened over the will is hilarious to this day. Aunt Anelle was right. It’s like those people that had the car accident right outside the gates of your home saw the plaque with your name and said, “let’s have it right here: this doctor, I hear, can raise the dead!”

It’s an honor to be the one person to share the greatest and most personal of secrets. How does one recognize a person in the dark? How great can the challenge of visibility be, when we talk about the imaginative limits that must ever expand and leap empty handed into the unknown?

We wouldn’t be doing an experiment if we knew. It’d be called an operation or something. I’ve got to go pee.

I’ve been up for...hahaha! Whew, deep breath, Janaka, old son; you’re due at the airport in Hong Kong. I told the fewest people who need to know, so I can disappear to my life’s work--- a regular enough occurrence, without sharing... about Abbie. Don’t know if the shock’s offset by sheer preparation; we’re five years ahead of our time, but oh if we could’ve been here, five years before when they married.

My confederates, I trust to do their part; my detractors, theirs, though they fell into the fringes of my abandoned normal life the moment I heard the words “brain dead.”


I am not brain dead. Servants drive me with backroad blinding speed to the airport, my mind on mini vacations, to simply soak in deep breaths of solace, committed beyond exhaustion to reach Nate. I am reaching out to the familiar place in my mind where both live every day, united in purpose: pioneering the human consciousness, in ways that make Columbus seem like a spirited boy playing at the edge of the backyard, where he’s been asked to stay for safety’s sake. I run a habitual diagnostic of my physical being, suitable to my very public side, founding the primary software design firm in the islands of the Indian Ocean, intellectually universal if still modestly funded.

Why not forget the odds against contacting my sister’s mind with nothing short of a state-of-the-art ouija board, or we’ll bring some Cthullian horror back in her place? I refuse to stake certainty upon an end that common sense tells me I must accept.
I accept it all only in a Schrodinger-approved paradox, that’s allowed me and all of us to be dead in my imagination, as well as simultaneously elsewhere alive. I figured incorporate death into the possibilities, and when all else fails, be stubborn as possible!

(As for the rest: let me see what Redstone has to say...any feedback, gang?)

Follow this blog

Phenomenal Experience

Now I’m called from beyond the grave, with a question, since the days Newton wondered how it is color appears to the mind at all, we’ve yet to answer.
For, how does anything appear in the mind, for that matter? How does one even ask?
It appears to me, for example, my best friend’s just messaged me his wife, my sister, experienced brain death at 6:06 am California time. My next call, then, goes to her.
I suppose initiating the Phenomenal Experience Program mediates the physical reaction of shock. It’s the beginning of nothing, however. This one action sets into motion our lives’ work: to discover oneself, not only here, but outside what we accept as life---another word we struggle to precisely define. Like death.

Beyond this one action, however---what can I do?




Think that's the beginning of my story, "Phenomenal Experience". Due TODAY. Fret not.


My status:
The universal call brighter burns than any star/Though Marble breaks and Iron bends, my dream is dancing far/Among the stars now that dream lives/ to find the mind that dreaming gives. ---from One Who Wields the Power of the Sun

Follow this blog