Over the last few days, on and off, I have had a sensation of something going on. That has a kind of French connection. It pertains to some people I have never met. Being objective I am very unlikely to ever meet them. We do not move in the same circles, nor are we likely to. I could be imagining it, or it could be real. I have no way of knowing for sure.
I do have a fairly good imagination. {My self-assessment}
A while back an ex-tutee of mine got back in touch with me. He told me that he had great difficulty finding me on-line. That I was difficult to trace. He was of a younger more tech savvy generation. In the end he used an email address which he had not used for a long time. The problem is that my name is common and that there are a lot of people with that name who are more readily found in search engines, they are more “famous” than me. Without additional key words I cannot be readily found in search engines.
In academia one is encouraged to have a profile with contact details. People do not just disappear without trace. I just tried my old email address and it does not work. No surprise. People may not imagine one sailing off the edge of the world. They may imagine you to be always contactable.
If I have no current named online presence do I exist? If there is no social media am I real or imaginary? If I am not on WankedIn can I be a professional?
There is no witness outside of this house/compound who can vouch for any claimed past history. I could have been spinning people a line…
Many of the people I was contemporary with are seemingly retired. They are dying out. I could have read the research papers of some arbitrary person and kidded myself that I wrote them. There is no proof, no witness, no referee. I have not left much of a tangible mark.
If we clean out our emails we may lose contact with people. This may at the time be intentional but that may be the only slim thread of contact. We may find a need to contact someone and they have disappeared into the aether. What we do in a pique, we may later regret.
People do not imagine others going “missing” or off the reservation.
I am pretty clear as to what my day to day reality is. A man has just delivered 885 kg of propane.
There is a whole other side which could only be imaginary or dream like. That side makes up ~ half a million words in a blog. If it is out of my brain, out of my mind, is it real? There is no physical manifestation other than in a blog. I am not passing it on in another way. It is a figment, temporary and impermanent in nature. Many texts online reference impermanent sources. There are many missing links. This too is impermanent.
There is a photo here taken a couple of days ago. It is possibly the only photo of me on the internet. That is unless you can trawl way back archived posts.
I could be lying. I could have taken someone else’s photo and be a catfish.
Many of us tell ourselves stories about who and what we are, what we stand for and are like. Many of those stories differ from those others hold and tell about us. Our personal narrative or legend differs from those more widely held.
We are all therefore figments of our own imagination.
There is a vague feeling of waiting for something. There are two important decisions upcoming which are not ours alone to make. These are whether or not my right to stay in France is approved and whether or not the new surgeon sees it fit and/or timely to operate and give me another new artificial hip.
These will define the year in a much more tangible way than anything I rabbit on about here. They are not figments they have real measurable physical plane outcomes.
Dreamyoga 