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Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Pearls of (worldly) knowledge

I speak in personal parables, words put to certain glances at the form of the world, updates on the understanding I build of it inside.

Bram Stoker's Dracula
"I have gathered up this growing row of pearls, see how they are so finely matched and threaded..."

"I have followed some ways beyond this well-worn path to that grassy hill, and found better understanding from a new vantage point. Listen, and I will tell you..."

I hate it when I do this, play the know-it-all. But really, perhaps I am so different that my way of sharing time and experience with another has a different language and grammer.

Years ago, I realized that I have been trying to create intimacy with others in my own way. I was silent, I think, before I developed it. When my father criticizes (as I do), he is trying to correct another's viewpoint with his understanding of what is important to know about each thing. We aren't just adding knowledge, we're sharing our individual "experience map" of the world. 

This is what makes me feel intimate, if someone can see or experience as I do, or at least the closest that I get (outside of sexuality). Simply sharing what is important to know is very intimate. But our way doesn't work. We push people away with this behavior. What is missing is a blank for me. A gulf I cannot cross, though I watch as others seem to negotiate it as a born gift(?)

When I open a recently gathered nugget about Islamic art in the form of the pleasing symmetry and detailed tile work of arabesques... while walking through the reception area at The Bellagio with Don... it is a non sequitur. Or is it?

Bram Stoker's Dracula

In my world, the subject of now is whatever is in the now, whether it is about our conversation, or what is in front of me, or simply whatever comes to mind (what I'm reminded of in the moment). This is the process of my mind. It is very different from how people seem to enjoy social interaction with each other.

Perhaps they go to this place when they are silent, and sit with their own process? Perhaps putting together various pieces of knowledge in such a constant manner is my particular prowess as a synthesizer? When I think I have thought something up, really, I have put it together with what I have gathered before, a three-dimensional map that grows each day, and which I do not really attempt to explain in words, except in pieces.

So to create intimacy, I point out a part, and expound on it. Everything has a footnote, and a reference to all else.

I know... a little about everything, and little about much else.

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