2 thoughts on ““My Onliest Regret…”*

    • Not sure if I could say “believe,” but a sure do accept its occurrence on occasion. Once when getting ready to step off the curb in downtown Honolulu in my typical daze I heard my mother say my name clearly – in my mind, not out loud – and I turned around to see if anyone else heard that too. Just as I turned a monster city bus wheezed right past, inches from the curb in its way to make a stop just a few dozen feet from where I was standing. Again, I was searching for a lost Aztec-style ring in sterling silver of the tail-swallowing worm Ourbouros(sp?) which my younger brother gave me before I left for Vietnam – this was five or six years thereafter. The water in which I believe he ring slipped off my finger in a lake near my then-present home in Lake Mary, a few miles from where I grew up, was cloudy and cold from its refreshing spring and the Winter season. I was chilled, toe-ing the sand-and-mud bottom when I heard my brother call my name…yup, as I twisted around to see how he had gotten there from Window Rock, Arizona where he was Principal Planner for the Navajo Nation, my right big toe dislodged something. I reached down about two feet into the water and there was the ring. But, Yassy, that, I believe, is not true telepathy: no real communication, just an open link between my unconscious and me, here and now. That’s been common for me all my life: mostly I heed those impulses. Sometimes it’s saved my life. Even the joy of finding someone you know and trust with whom you find yourself finishing sentences for each other doesn’t qualify, really. A shame, though. I’ve never had that stinging awareness that someone was in my head rummaging through my experiences – gads! – or me theirs. Only if the ability to open incompletely, portions as it were, guarding other memories from open distribution; the ability to direct or receive thoughts and impressions; the wonder of being naked that way before one or more other humans is both a terror and a fervent desire. Maybe when our Medula Oblongottas decide to grow up and see what they could become other than monitors we could grow into mindful humans. Might end wars; might start them. Might – like most else we do betwixt our ears – be a double-edged sword, sweeping truth and horror, lies and beauty into every corner of imagination. Might make Disney Films obsolete. Now, there’s a thought: only if we can get to keep the uncensored Night on Bald Mountain VHS-turned-DVD.

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