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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required (very early stage of "Before the Door" encaustic, 2023) The Stream Of Pre-Consciousness A friend recently told me, “Write a novel “stream of pre-consciousness” and be amazed” But like a Zen koan this doesn’t offer much immediate help. Stream of consciousness writing has always eluded me, not to mention what steam of “pre-consciousness” would entail. Just the thought of it gives me an intellectual headache, like trying to visualize solving a Rubik’s Cube. I can stream along just fine in conversation, climbing rocks or mountain tracks, I’m even learning to do it mowing the lawn, but words meant to stand the test of time are a different matter altogether. The problem is simply that I don’t see my consciousness as much of a stream. If truth be told, it’s more of a series of stagnant pools in an old dried up river bed that is prone to occasional flash floods and seasonal renewals. But as much as I can imagine the worst (a stream fully harnessed into a series of canal locks, or reduced to a trickle in irrigational channels) I know I am blessed simply to have such imagination. I’m also blessed to have the blithe spirit which thinks everyone has the same kind of mind, the same desire to create same challenge with blocks and same ability to overcome. For if we’re all the same, then I too can do what the greats have done! Meanwhile reality is what I’m left with. The greats are great precisely because they are great, and the huddled masses remain huddled through no fault but their own. So where does that leave me, Oh Great Zen Master? Right where you began caterpillar certainly no closer to being a mindless flutterby in the pre-consciousness dawn…. (8/29/23)
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