I was in such a groove today. I might still be in it, but it is less obvious now that I am back at my place. When I was out, it was as if I had a slight sheen of some drug, some small amount, affecting my senses ever so slightly. Just enough so that I could look at everybody without looking away, without tripping over my internal voice (“look away, look away, they’ll become afraid”). Of course I haven’t taken any drugs, this may simply be what the fourth day of a cold feels like. Occasional coughs aside, this feels nice. I walked all over looking for a particular wire for my computer-to-stereo connection, and by walked I mean drove, and by stereo I mean receiver. And no matter where I was, be it Target, be it CompUSA, be it the two times I went into Radio Shack, I had the same groove.
If I had to exaggerate this feeling in order to find words for it, I might exaggerate it by saying I felt that everything in this world was mere amusement, there was no minor worry worth worrying about, for I knew a secret about the world that cast everything into perspective. Mind you I didn’t really know a secret, I am simply describing the feeling of being aware of something that made everything else seem more innocent and innocuous. Associated with this feeling, I felt like time might hiccup at any moment and we’d all be five minutes ago, but even that didn’t seem like a problem.
It occured to me that if time ever did “hiccup”, due to whatever random quirks in spacetime might exist through the chaos of natural forces, everyone might dissapear since everyone is used to traveling forward in a linear direction through time. Rather like the Kurt Vonnegut story in which an alien casually mentions that the entire universe ends one day when a test pilot starts an experimental engine; this did not bother the alien in the Vonnegut story because the aliens did not live in time in only one direction of motion; they moved across time in any direction, as they chose to. Visiting every era as often as they wanted, experiencing history without the prison of time. History without end.
Come to think of it, I’d been thinking of time a lot today. When I was driving home, leaving the parking lot of Safeway, I wished I could see what the year 2069 would be like — to see if they’d be celebrating the free spirit of the 1960s in the 2060s. Or would a century be too long to care about such anniversaries (do we have any plans for a flapper revival in 2030?). But more than seeing 2069 as an outsider, as an old man, I wished I could see it as a person living then, in my youth in the 2060s. Rather than being 100 years old. And I was again asking myself, when we incarnate, do we only move forward? Do we move back? Do we have our pick? Do we sometimes have two or three lives overlapping by a few decades? If so, does at least one have a cute go-go haircut?
I think what I was feeling was confidence. Security of the world being simply as it is, and our individual lives small by comparison.