The influence of gaslight or electric light on the growth of paraheliotropic trees

Thus, we carry Him with us, He is always watching, for we are always watching, and though we forget sometimes that We and Everything carry Him, walk with him, each of us a Child, a Thought, the Logos, He does not forget, cannot forget, and whispers the truth to our hearts in the quote, that we are not Him, but He is us –

And He is out there among the stars, among the myriad worlds, worlds without end, hidden jewels locked within the vault of heaven, other dreams, dreams of joy and darkest nightmares, just like here, this own perfect jewel –

And truly we both love and suffer, and live a moment, and walk with God, and then end like all thoughts end, like all dreams go –

I dreamt of my dead grandfather last night, living – he was not living, but moved as if is was – and though I only independent him bald, he had hair, hair the color of mine – qnd my father his son was there too, who does live, black bearded, alp at the table –

And then this morning waking laughed and said about myself “he is risen,” my morning blasphemy.

And thinking of my own secret sins, and how I’ve forgotten them, or tried too, but cannot really, and think of how the He that is all has now seen that as well –

I have not been outside since Friday night. Since then, entombed here, eating the bread of affliction, my limbs weak, but any moment I will go and walk to the River and breath in the fresh air and be alive. And He will know that too.

If Universe/Reality = God, and matter is equivalent to energy and that is all there is, and all we are are particular patterns in that energy, then surely we are entitled to call ourselves the dreams of God, and since dreams are but thought, we are the very Mind of the Omnipresent.

There is a word for an evolutionary adaptation that has evolved for one purpose and then is opportunistically exploited for some wholly new function. Jury-rigged. It is clear that memory was like this – that the mind, which had to simulate the world through complex electrochemical signals, could, with only minor adaption, save and store these simulations for later use – and storage always being at a premium, and the ruthless sandcastling of natural selection mindlessly pushing all our ancestors towards every advantage, it was a relatively easy move to store these simulated experiences in a lossy format – hence, the hazy imprecision of our memories as opposed to that other simulation side project, the arresting vivid dream.

And so our memories, sad-sweet to begin with, are doubly so, in that they are true shadows of shadows, a dodge of a dodge, and quiet subtle proof of the partial solipsism of all of us living, at last resort, only in our heads.

Only in our heads. Even as I type this. And rearrange electrons, and send it out to you, across the sea of night, across that other beach and ocean and then the structured bed of sand upon which our glowing shadows play, lightning passing through logic gates.

Oh, you long-haired, you well-greaved Achaeans, a thousand ships, all for beauty, and memories, and songs, that fly free of our bone cage and sing a spring everlasting. Like staring into an eclipse. Like the cardboard shadow box in our narrow vestibule, never made, false remembered, or true forgotten – or me, in same but other younger bodies, looking in mirrors – two, three, eleven, eighteen, nineteen, twenty-one, twenty-two like Dedalus, twenty seven, twenty eight — all me. All the same.