“…and he never returned.”
A number of scenes arrange themselves, quietly seeking an attending to. Tonight they are places I have once visited and largely forgotten since. More than one of these are churches — a place I should prefer some invisibility — inviting enough though sure to prove their humanity with a little provocation. In all ways it surprises me when I return to such a place; it feels a sacrifice of my intrapersonality. Few thoughts could drive me further than ‘it seems a modest sort of place I could see myself returning to’.
It seems the one thing in common to places he never returned to — they were too easy to find.
A few other instances would be parties, but these are far less frequent for me. Having one or two ‘deep’ conversations with another is verging on what matches this narrative.
Are these ghosts of a self I was trying to be? Are they much different from interviews for jobs or similar enquiries? It feels there is some mirroring going on — an exercise in the intrapersonal. Not merely being ‘I’ but very much feeling the incongruities of summing up and pretending some coherent unity. It is in conversing with new persons that we are offered the chance to meet with ourselves — to examine our impulses.
I can say little for why I have ever gone back to a place. Many times I might describe the pull as interpersonally motivated. It is the move from ‘could’ to ‘do’ whose causality is least explicable to myself. The mirroring does not stop — it continues to question, and therefore relate, to itself — at least insofar as it is even a unity. Even this seems a form of re-turning: turning back in until finally there is a going-out.
That seems the gap between the action pondered and its enacted non-relative, for the thing done and the thing not done are cousins in thought only.
He should have stopped there. In fact, in many ways he did.
I realise self-talk is a normal thing — perhaps a normal thing grossly distorted in sleep or when this filtering mechanism is mis-trained or damaged. I can’t recall not generating (or experiencing the generation of) these sort of odd narratives. I say odd because they re-sort and ‘fix their grammar’ or tamper with memories. Locating what prompts their change is difficult, but I ‘ll attempt considering it as self-protection in the form of ‘hearing oneself’.
Perhaps it develops as a largely defensive framework for conversing; I feel least lonely often when I am least conscious of its back-bringing. Those are the moments when conversations or thoughts or actions shine brightest — when we are least aware of any underlying items. There is simply the natural interrelatedness. But self-talk is not to be despised — it can surely be trained. I think it is through this that I attempt to hear myself, for I am most shocked when I discover some information lacking in my internal dialogues. ‘Oh, is that how you say it?’
Now comes the part of interest — how do you experience this? For I experience you as part of this intrapersonality as well — the interpersonal is more of an ideal or a practice (and better a practice). It is only by continually meeting, and being surprised at what confounds my expectations that the proper disjunction is maintained. That is, in misunderstanding you I misunderstand myself and the way by which you misunderstand me is also a self-misunderstanding. You should get that checked… or…