Space

I go into a space in the middle of my head between my ears. I have it decked out quite nicely in there these days. It is a quiet room with a long curved leather sofa (facing away from me) in the foreground and a control consul with a big screen above it on the far wall. In the middle of the room a very large shiny stone is suspended from the ceiling, spinning slowly, significantly adding to the air of calm in there. It is quite dark. (I suppose when I don’t go in there myself that the lights may be brighter). On occasion, I have considered adding a water feature, but it doesn’t seem quite right. Sometimes there are one or two people sitting at the consul, maybe reading a magazine or tapping away at a key board. I ask them to shut everything non essential down and go off for a break. Then, where usually there is whatever I can see through my eyes, projected on to the screen, there becomes a very deep space.

After a few moments of quiet on my expensive chair, the most surprising, pleasant, reassuring, peaceful, real things will appear on the screen. Then the room can evaporate and I am left with whatever there is. There really are many things and feelings, the experience is ‘most adjacent’, as my Aunt Edith would say. When I leave, it feels more and more like I bring a bit of that feeling with me.