IJesusChrist
Holofractale de l'hypervérité
- Inscrit
- 22/7/08
- Messages
- 7 482
Seasons are the most powerful mood adjustment media for me.
At the change of temperatures, the color of the sky, the slow retreat of life from the trees, a grand change takes place in my head. An unexplainable, and utterly unimaginable tangle of memories, thoughts, ideologies, and methodologies for dealing with all arise and begin to take full advantage of the spectra within my consciousness.
I never know what to say, other than I can feel it coming, every day approaching a more escalated climax then the previous season, whether it bring me to bliss and tears, or a dark abyss of unknowing, I cannot say for sure.
I'm beginning to wonder how my psyche would deal without the seasons. Whether I would benefit from the separation of winter, or whether I would lose an important aspect of analytical thought; perhaps I would even miss being alone.
Winter is something that takes my mind up in a volume beyond measure. A dark, starry night in the midst of sub-zero temperatures without a soul nor a noise abound brings a tingle to my spine and a longing for answers that will never come.
Sitting under a pine tree on a January night, some 40 miles from any civilization or encampment, I lose all grips with reality. I have no morals, no goals, no ambitions, no hopes. I become lost in the space which washes over my head as I sit motionless, only hearing my own breath.
At the change of temperatures, the color of the sky, the slow retreat of life from the trees, a grand change takes place in my head. An unexplainable, and utterly unimaginable tangle of memories, thoughts, ideologies, and methodologies for dealing with all arise and begin to take full advantage of the spectra within my consciousness.
I never know what to say, other than I can feel it coming, every day approaching a more escalated climax then the previous season, whether it bring me to bliss and tears, or a dark abyss of unknowing, I cannot say for sure.
I'm beginning to wonder how my psyche would deal without the seasons. Whether I would benefit from the separation of winter, or whether I would lose an important aspect of analytical thought; perhaps I would even miss being alone.
Winter is something that takes my mind up in a volume beyond measure. A dark, starry night in the midst of sub-zero temperatures without a soul nor a noise abound brings a tingle to my spine and a longing for answers that will never come.
Sitting under a pine tree on a January night, some 40 miles from any civilization or encampment, I lose all grips with reality. I have no morals, no goals, no ambitions, no hopes. I become lost in the space which washes over my head as I sit motionless, only hearing my own breath.
