Doubt fills my heart; a cavity inside the center of the chest. I sit in silence.
That doubt seems married to the murmurings you hear when alone. You sit receptive to them. You know they come from the deep to share their secrets if only you would let them. They finger at the inside of your skull; and although always present, the merest distraction renders the feeling numb.
A voice speaks. My hands type and I am not the author. This is what I embarked for; and what I expected before delving below consciousness. I look at my hands and see them moving. It lets me know that I am partaking in a game. A game where I let another assume control; and this act reveals the true nature of my psyche. A friend inside my mind sits behind and to the right. The color brown emanates from him. I am not alone. Meditation brings him around sometimes, but it takes practice.
But that damned doubt. Are these my voices? Am I trying too hard? Am I going crazy? Is this just imagination or something more? What forces am I involved with? Is this dangerous?
Brooding over these thoughts seem to produce a sign. Always a sign appears when my faith teeters. The deep is fickle that way; They like to play cat and mouse. When I stray, a silent hand bends my will toward focus again. Uncommon occurrences, an expected phone call; a swarm of moths; a black bird following me outside. Meaningful Coincidences? – or merest chance? That finger drags across the inside of my skull again whispering that I can have it either way. I get to choose: sign or fiction.
They have interesting thoughts and do not want you to betray them. They say to be honest. They whisper: If you don’t like what they say, they will go away. A reminder that I am in control, but the secrets won’t get illuminated without effort.
I must remain focused on being absent. I am not developed enough yet to share a complete dialogue. But there is a second thought: What hell am I knocking on?
This is one of the weirder posts I have on here. It is meant to explain one of the ways I make some of the posts. Challenger came from this style of writing. It's similar to stream of conscious writing only more vivid: It comes about by becoming a conduit for your unconscious images; through allowing yourself to be highly receptive and highly suggestive. Gullibility.