How easy is it to hold a thought in your mind? What about two at the same time? What about three or three hundred? What about the brother of my sister's grandmother who died in the war between gods in the mind of a sleeping child?
We're peas in a pod floating down the stream of consciousness, collectively sown by the spiderlike fingers that make up God's mind. God is a child playing in the grass. I know what you think. I know what everyone thinks. I am the Seventh Rung of Unknowing.
There are no differences really. When it all bubbles down to it, I am you and he and she and they and it for we too are the rocks and wind and spray on the sea. We are sunlight glinting on a pool in the mountains. We are the smell of dust lifting off the sidewalk before the rain.
Come with me now and we'll walk into a world of pure imagination. It's a place to grow together, not apart. We can build bridges and burn them together. We can watch the water flow from the mouth of the river into the sea. Jump with me, oh blessed one, into the plunge pool of our collective unconscious.
Let go of control.
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