The Mind’s Sigh…

Thoughts, ideas, so fleeting they are, I wish they’d more often put roots into the soil from which they sprout, be visible and anchored ready for harvest in either their nascent state or left a while to mature before being baled up into wisdom. But no, most thoughts are not so, they emerge instead from some murky pond of the possibly ponderable into the light of consciousness. Hatched freshly from their pupa they set themselves out on some stalk to dry their wings in readiness for their own mission. So, so fleeting indeed; they fly off as soon as they’re able. I do my best to net them for the sake of musing, admiration or consideration, but most escape to be one with another of their evanescent selves, I guess, in some happy dalliance in the ether of the definitely imponderable. Unwitnessed by all.

To capture and study every notion one has is a sure impossibility I know, but I see a sadness in what is wasted. In this universe of inordinate emptiness and magnitude–ought all thoughts to be super precious? There’s surely room for them. Only the Eureka moments seem to stick around to make it to a notepad or be shored in the mind by their own strength. Out of my window at work today I contemplated something nigh on profound. ‘Nigh on’ being the key word pair; I can’t for the middle-aged life of me now remember what it was. Had it been truly profound, it’d still be with me making a feature of itself on my mental landscape. Only that it had me smile inwardly and make a soon to be broken promise to ponder it later is what I recall. ‘Work’ you see is the other key word; it got in the way, my obligation to my occupation overruled my desire to delve at that juncture and do that musing I mention. Outstretched went the idea’s wings and out of contemplation (and that very window I stared) it flew. And in my pocket stayed my notepad.

Those with a greater stature than mine whose shoulders I like to stand on and look inside their brains (figuratively of course); the Great Thinkers. I posit they should have listeners and documenters on hand to record their thoughts for each of their waking moments, for even their small ideas are immense. Were Eureka alive today, we might just have discovered the theory of displacement was actually gotten years earlier when he was picking his nose.

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Museworthy Man

Typically atypical man from Manchester with aspirations that'll never/maybe/could one day be realisations :-D

6 thoughts on “The Mind’s Sigh…”

  1. “To capture and study every notion one has is a sure impossibility I know, but I see a sadness in what is wasted. In this universe of inordinate emptiness and magnitude–ought all thoughts to be super precious? ” –

    One day, whether it be a day we see or not, I’m sure people will be able to record every single thought they’ve had, minute by minute. Every ponder, every muse, through some kind of device worn on, or perhaps in the skin. It may not end up all that wonderful to read them all back, but I have no doubt it would be incredibly useful for writers such as yourself. Assuming you didn’t read it back and find out the nigh on profound thought you had was….rather pants. Ha. Be careful what you wish for 😀 sonmicloud

  2. I captured and studied a thought, it got me thinking, so I captured and studied that…which got me thinking again…this went on for a while till I was full with thought but short on space, time and the mental faculties to study anything anymore. Soon stuck in an infinite introspective feedback loop, I was, unable to exist in the present and thinking too even about that quandary.
    I’m going to stick to the sure impossibility line with this one Sonmi. I agree there’ll be the style product in the future or a hundredth iteration thereof but being more than immortal will be the only way one could witness one’s own entire psycho-essence. Maybe the device should serve solely as the collector of thought curios for others? Or am I being too close-minded?

  3. Dear me, it sounds like you got yourself all in a lather. I’m surprised you can jot down any thoughts at all with such a spiralling commotion of mobocracy presenting itself in your bulging head. (Bulging because it’s full of thoughts, rather than swollen up enormously with inflated ego, or having a medical condition).

    The camera….unseats me from the cloud. I see too much as it is. To comprehensively log the minutiae of our lives, (for historical archives at the very least.) How different our present history would be, had the population been sporting such devices for centuries. The record could be tampered with and doctored, both text and image, even sound, to make for the preferred propaganda by whomsoever gets their hands on the evidence first. Whole lives could be stolen and edited, after, or even before death. There will be no true heroes in the future, no imaginary shining demi-gods on pedestals because everyone will know the utterly mortal, cruel/selfish people really are, or, it will be prettily fabricated. No-where to hide. All the good, but all the negative too. On record for all to consume and judge. The editing out of your own dubious deeds, to appear as one might wish to, would take so much time you’d be missing the experience of actual living, and end up journeying along a mobius strip, where all that is left to show of your life is a record of yourself editing constantly, until all it is an edit of an edit of an edit, forever-and-ever-and-ever-and……
    It’s a very interesting premise/prophecy/fait acommpli.
    I think I shall remain here with the cloud for the foreseeable (as it stands) future. It’s infinitely more paradisiacal up here than down there.

    Well you did ask.

    “psycho-essence” = Eau de bedlam.

    I hate to be a pedant, it makes one sound like some kind of flag, however you have spelt my name wrong.
    No legal proceedings have been set in motion as of yet.

    “I was, unable to exist in the present“ – So……where did you go Museworthy Man? What did it look like, and how was the weather? – sonmicloud

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