Another Debatable Afternoon

More thinking about neurotransmitters.  I'm feeling really paranoid that if someone finds out I'm having this pattern of thought they're gonna have me hauled away in a straight jacket. 

I was reading my NVC book and I noticed two phrases that Rosenberg wrote:

"I feel like I'm married to a wall!"
and
"It's like talking to a bunch of machines!"

both on page: 39. 

Suddenly I could see what my brain was doing.  I got so excited that I wanted to draw it or describe it or write it out somehow. 

All sorts of images came into my mind, but I could not stop them from changing.  They just wouldn't hold still so I could sketch them.  More and more perspectives, and higher and higher perspectives kept coming.  And the whole process was so important that I didn't want to waste any of it by settling on one still image.  I needed to record it while moving somehow.  But, alas.  I have no such equipment which could record what I was imagining at the speed I was imagining it. 

Does anyone?

So, I simply marveled.  Then it changed into something I could describe in words.  And this is what I wrote down:

"'I feel like: ___________________________'  This is a container for meaning.  We exchange these with one another using our language brain and our mirror-neurons.  If you hand the meaning to me in these words, my mirror neurons construct the picture that was described and fire, exciting the appropriate chemical releases.  Almost instantly the meaning becomes shared & is available should the listener want to integrate that into their perspective. 
'He who has ears to hear, let him hear.'"


I decoded a parable. 

It emerged from the writing and snuck up on me.  I didn't see it coming!  I swear!

I've often ogled the thought of writing Theology in my old age until I just keeled over.  Literally.  Falling over on a keyboard from a massive stroke.  I love it so.  But I doubt I'll ever be that immobile.  I'm just too active.  Anyhoo, then it occurred to me that I was writing about neurotransmitters again.  And just then, my mind took a picture of itself, much like The French Woman in "I Heart Huccabees" did.  [Click.]

"Wow." I said, feeling totally busted! "That's amazing."

And here we are. 

I wonder if this crazy crap will be decypherable when I'm no longer debatable. 

Why!!??!!

Why?  Why?  Why does this happen?  Why am I so freakin' curious about it?  Who cares?  Why does it fascinate me so?  It's like a frenzy of objectification, flattening everything out.  "Interior, Interior, let me in!" "Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin!"  SMACK!!  Up against the right-hand wall!  Everything is instantly "it"ified.  Only I Am not... for now...

I was actually picturing making this in film or a live-theater version.  Hiring actors and actresses to lip-sync to recordings of young girls trying to communicate in squeaky,  crying voices to others about: getting dumped by her boyfriend or raped by her father or gang-banged; and men about: getting humiliated by a girl in high school or raped by his father or finding out the girl he loved killed herself.  Stammering...  until they each finally lunge out in unison, "It's LIKE S/HE RIPPED MY HEART OUT THROUGH MY MOUTH AND PUT IT THROUGH A MEAT GRINDER AND THEN SHOVED IT BACK DOWN MY THROAT AGAIN!"  And all the parts in capitals are when they slow the recording down and their voices deepen and the lights go out all around them until only they are each lit and speaking in slow-motion. 

And when they finish, their images are frozen and I come voice over like Rod Serling and read all that shit I just wrote while their images fade to black.  And as I'm finishing, images of Jesus flash in fragments of seconds from various films about Him.  He is about to speak a parable in each fragment.  Finally, one settles in and the whole parable is played.  "The Kingdom of Heaven is like..."  Then the film closes to black and an audio speaks in the darkness from yet another film, "He who has ears to hear, let him hear." and the last word echoes to fadeout for at least 30 seconds. 

And the house lights come up. 

We could even do a sort of ska version where the last voice to be heard is just like the voice in the song, "One Step Beyond!" and then the saxophones begin: dah-nah-naaaaah.  Dah-nu-nu-nu-uh-nu-uh. ... 

I'm a freak. 

So, I'm thinking that would cover the upper left, to the upper right, to the lower ... something.  It creates a we-space.  But I don't know if thats a right or left thing.  I guess by wrighting it down in here, it becomes a lower right.  Heh-heh.  Lower righting. 

Whoa, man.  I'm out there.