CLINKERS

I want to talk about the spectrum of mental possibilities. How is it possible to even think without a few coals in the clinker? They have to be there. That's what the furnace will hold. It's a ruse of course to think we know how we think. But after a pause in twilight hours, as the truth settles in, we see what was already there. Sort of lurking with the orb weaver spiders in predawn hours while waiting for the sunrise. It's all these bits and pieces, strung together like tinker toys, spidery mice running for the exit as the door opens and a rush of blinding light floods in. Skittering everywhere, orphans of the intellect past structures that can be, barbers with traditional poles, twisting hypnotically, bright red, white and blue swirls that sing campfire songs of stropping the razor. Fascinating. Without this evolution, possible by degrees ~ but have you ever asked why? Why these degrees? Where do they start?

The process was simple at its start, as tinker toy sticks began building out, following laws discovered physically, by observation and poking the beast with experiments to see if the guess was correct. Surely you've had some incomprehensible dreams and now, much in the manner of filling salt and pepper shakers, they seem to sort themselves out quite satisfactorily, don't they? Even if still incomprehensible.

The spectrum is almost as a cloud of dust at first, gradually a prism as the air clears, and then surprise! It pops clear. Colors splash everywhere, even beyond the ultra-ends, vast hoards of them following plans for expansion. Is it not satisfying?

The journey once started is unstoppable and endless and completely not your ordinary movie. So naturally, some examples.

Posh. Without this spectrum, nothing gets its Lego day. Without it, we're back to day one, and deeper in, further back, it's all simply one. All of it escapes the white board lecture, running down the hall laughing.

The spectrum contains a language set, think bird songs in the trees when robins know robins, doves know doves. Or in our language, words that comprise certain letters, in a given order, pronounced in agreed ways with emphasis on agreed syllables, sung with given notes, 10 in Cantonese. Birds share with humans and other creatures. Birds and humans imitate each other, using overlapping subsets. Can anyone explain why? Isn't it wonderful?

We make up our minds as to what we'll say. But it's also the other way round. An example is the community of “me” -- this body with lungs, heart, liver, brain, all doing their jobs without words, right down to the last molecule. How often do we think of this when saying “me?” Or that this community is constantly changing, adapting on the fly, co-existing with associated microbes which comprise an unseen host.

Me. Everyone knows who “me” is, right? So “I” stick out “my” tongue, etc. Universes on the move, directed by an illusion. Am I the dawn shining through trees? Who is dawn? Who would’ve thunk it comes across this like Humpty on his wall. There is a justified fear of falling, part of a certain reality set that gets dumped at the last moment.