David and the Mind

Do yourself a favor, click here. Relax, it’s Pink Floyd. Let it roll, perhaps you’ll see my point.

Dreaming of that face again.
It’s bright and blue and shimmering.
Grinning wide
And comforting me with it’s three warm and wild eyes.

I am under strong suspicion that Mr. Gilmour knows something the rest of us don’t. Pink Floyd is the popular end of a generation of experimentation with drugs, music and mental exploration that I’m glad came before my time. I can reap the benefits in the form of this kind of music and Ritalin, and not get hooked on LSD from the first minute, like I know I would.

 

On my back and tumbling
Down that hole and back again
Rising up
And wiping the webs and the dew from my withered eye.

Certainly not all, but a few Pink Floyd songs seem to have been written with music as a secondary purpose. Its primary function is to reach inside your mind, and curl some appendage around an entity there, pulling it out gently for you to see with your very own eye. An archetype of sorts. Trying to point out that you missing someone far away from you, or dreaming of the stars, or longing, or feeling trapped, are all glimpses of your own character, the inner workings of your mind and how it squirms to adjust, strives to change its surroundings.

A child’s rhyme stuck in my head.
It said that life is but a dream.
I’ve spent so many years in question
to find I’ve known this all along.

Your will to do good, your artistic talents, your need for affection, your cynicism, your jealousy- all your sins, all your virtues, are represented inside your psyche by separate entities that are each nothing but their function. Inside you, there is a little monster that is glad when couples break up, or when your rich grandmother dies. It is counteracted by its opposite: The endless battle between good and evil inside of us, that we all know. But there are dozens of such battles inside us at any given moment; Our frame of reference changes by the second, underneath our awareness.

"So good to see you.
I’ve missed you so much.
So glad it’s over.
I’ve missed you so much
Came out to watch you play.
Why are you running away?
Came out to watch you play.
Why are you running away?"

And what I find so fascinating, is that these processes can be mapped. It is possible to scan or monitor our brain, and figure out where these battles take place.
Every one of these beings, these entities, has a physical location inside your brain.
What is more, they have a common language, and speak to each other in actual frequencies, like the clock speed of a processor. Our pride, our hatred, our willpower, all those and more, are physical areas in our brain that, through an insanely complex procedure that evolves with every pulse, makes up our psyche.

Prying open my third eye.
Prying open my third eye.
Prying open my third eye.
Prying open my third eye.

They are in fact, so physical that I almost feel like I can draw them out and talk to them, much like a schizophrenic would. Maybe not me personally, but apparently Mr. Gilmour can. He seems able to explain to me that when I miss someone, I miss part of myself. That my desire for them is simply a void in my expectations pattern, creating a negative-person that I communicate with. Another soul swimming in the fish bowl.

So good to see you once again.
I thought that you were hiding.
And you thought that I had run away.
Chasing the tail of dogma.

Song done? Here you go. That should keep you occupied.
Thought patterns are the words used by those loved and hated entities to communicate ideas and send them to the surface of your awareness. Some are complex and contradictive, a disagreement between two or more archetypes. Some are immediate and clear, resulting in an act of aggression, or an impulsive show of affection.

I opened my eye
I opened my eye
I opened my eye
and there we were…

My interpretation of Pink Floyd’s music is probably way off. I’ve been listening to it since I was 5 or so, which is probably why I feel like it reaches inside me so deeply, so easily.
Still, as it does, it seems to shed some light on the darkest parts of my mind. By stirring deep things, I become aware of them. And these days I find it insanely interesting to go on what I’ve learned from that- without even the slightest use of hallucinogens, locate and define those characters and try to make out why they are what they are- What shaped them and how well versed they are compared to the others.

Open my eye
Open my eye
Open my eye
and there you were…

The mind is bionic to an extent that should trouble you. It can be fundamentally changed by removing parts of your brain, like a computer would change after having parts removed. Likewise, we can install pre-made pieces of software like language or religion, that fills gaps inside our programming and compliments it- a series of algorithms like the bible, that plugs into our God complex and provides us with new words –new thought patterns- for it to use. True or false words, doesn’t make much difference with some.

So good to see you once again
I thought that you were hiding from me.
And you thought that I had run away.
Chasing a trail of smoke and reason.

Our minds may be extremely plastic, but are still limited by their physical existence. Even those very limits are impossible for us to comprehend- that’s just how small our big mind really is. We might float around in it freely like a fish bowl, but we don’t see the glass, and the things beyond it are so blurry that we can only guess, simplifying them to something familiar in the water with us.

Prying open my third eye.
Prying open my third eye.
Prying open my third eye.
Prying open my third eye.

But again, like a goldfish and its castle, there’s endless chance to marvel at everything within. Our mind hums, it vibrates at a frequency, it babbles and quibbles. It has emergency exits, a sandbox, a panic button and Maynard knows what else, and these things are all both mentally and physically there. And I don’t know about you, but it’s keeping me awake at night. Dreams just seem boring in comparison.

Prying open my third eye.
Prying open my third eye.
Prying open my third eye.
Prying open my third eye.

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