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YOU know that a primary tool of Brain
Self-Control Captains is to take WRITTEN NOTES as you go along. Why is that?
One of the functions of the advanced human brain is LANGUAGE--something
missing in the skills of "lower" mammals. Although I would never claim that
there is something intrinsically superior about human BEANS, say, as compared
to my dog Chloe -- which I've observed on many occasions as being far
superior to many humans in regards to behavior-- one of the ways in which
humans interact with the universe is through this extraordinary skill of
abstract imagery constructed by WORDS and language.
And not surprisingly, utilizing this skill remains largely DORMANT in most of
the population.
Just think about it-- how many people actually WRITE daily?
Yep, it is strikingly obvious.
And, as it turns out, the PENCIL or PEN, or for that matter, the computer
keyboard, is one of our most valuable WANDS or TOOLS that enable us to change
the VECTOR of energy that guides us through Life On Earth.
You don't have to write a lot, just a little bit will usually do the trick.
What happens when you write?
You create an invaluable record for analysis for yourself and others.
And as we know, "Those who forget the past, are
likely to repeat stupid errors, and forget successful strategies."
- Neil Slade, March 29, 2008 (My own take on the famous quote).
So, as I compose my new book, I marvel at my past experiences of these past
seven magical years-- and delight in notes and bits of creativity that I have
otherwise completely consciously forgotten.
You can browse through 8/10ths or so of a decade of my public notes- i.e. The
Your Great Brain Adventure newsletter simply by going here
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/YourGreatBrainAdventure/messages
and either systematically or randomly- like browsing in a Brain Candy Store--
munching upon some of this verbal trail mix.
As I go through these mind snacks, I am editing those messages that are
redundant, or irrelevant- so you may stumble upon a few that have little
meaning. But as a rule, many of these tidbits are actually not
only entertaining, but may spur you on to reflect upon your own experience--
but further inspire you to begin writing yourself on a regular basis. One of
the real joys of writing, is to revisit yourself in the future, and look back
and say "Hey, that's so cool! I forgot about that!"
You may be a poet, and forgot that you know it.
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/YourGreatBrainAdventure/message/111
Incidentally, THIS IS A TRUE
STORY as the poem reports-- its actually a literal description of the dream,
where I am in a tree, writing THIS poem below. I.e., I had the dream, got up,
wrote the poem in the amount of time it took to type it.....
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ME On TREE
Please read this rhyme
Oh do not skip
Please do not glance
Please do not flip.
Read every word
Read every line
You see I sat
I sat and typed.
I had a dream
A dream of me
A dream of me
Of Me On Tree.
And in this dream
There was THIS poem
And this there poem
This poem just flow-ed.
When I woke up
I typed, just me.
Did I did type
And you here read.
In this dream
I dreamt a wood
I dreamt a map
Why not? I could.
I dreamt of me
I dreamt of wood
I dreamt of me
Of Me On Tree.
I dreamt I dropped
Into this wood
From high above
I could, and should.
There was no road
That entered glen
The only road
Stayed all within.
You had to drop
From sky above
And could not drive
Through wood, could not.
And so I dropped
And drove my car
And looked around
From near to far.
And in this wood
The trees did grow
OH very strange
From top to low.
The trees you see
Grew way up high
The grew up high
Into the sky.
They grew two stacked
Like skinny arms
Like pancakes flapped
Like weird tree farm.
With winding road
Through weird tree farm
Upon I drove
Inside my car.
The boughs were strange
Into the air
The branches straight
The branches bare.
The branches thin
Ninety degrees
The branches straight
Is what I mean.
I looked at trees
Stacked two trees high
With branches weird
I do not lie.
I looked around
Then came back home
I came back home
To write this poem.
Inside kitchen
I soon did rhyme
Inside the dream
This poem time.
On kitchen floor
In kitchen dream
I wrote this poem
Or so it seemed.
When I woke up
The poem done
All I did then
Was type it up.
And so you have
This poem here
This poem there
This poem near.
This rhyme of me
This tale of tree.
And in this tale
Of Me On Tree.
I did not stand
Oh no, was not
Upon a tree
With feet so flat.
I dropped on down
I drove past ground
I used my eyes
I looked around.
When I said me
Said "Me On Tree"
I did not mean
Oh, physically.
I did not mean
Literally
Although of course,
It's what I mean.
I meant to say
It's what I think
And what I thought
And what I ought.
What I did say
And what I mean
Is what I thought
Of last nights dream.
And of the dream
And of the scene
The scene of me
Of Me On Tree.
-N.S 2001
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