Delirium

The fever burns.  Whether the fever of the head or the heart, it burns.  

Temperature rising,
it isn't surprising
she certainly can can-can

--Irving Berlin

Twenty-four hours being bathed in fire, spiked with the occasional five minutes of shaking from being chilled to the bone and frequent bouts of coughing which rendered breathing problematic have passed.  Memories linger and are recorded.  Ideas joust with each other for primacy.  Words erupt.

Originally posted at Docudharma

Memories of the bad times...of decades of burning pieces of my heart to keep the world out...and me in, all in the pursuit of safety, or so I thought.  When in doubt run away, either emotionally, psychologically or physically.  What else could be considered sane when one lives in an insane world.  And the inhabitants of this world became more fearful with each passing day.

You do not want to see this.  I didn't either.  I was just innocently looking for Robert Plant's Ship of Fools on youtube.  What is at that link, however, reveals some of the source of the delirium.  And the 40th anniversary of the Tet Offensive should be remembered, as unsanitized as it happened.

The following version is easier to see.  The words take on special meaning.

The soul must breathe as well as the lungs.  It must be set free.  Eventually.  Can we climb out of the holes we have dug for ourselves?  Can we reassemble the fragments we have sought to destroy?  Do we want to?  

Time is an arrow.  There is no going back.  But it is also baggage we carry forward.

I can't imagine life if I had not won my freedom.  Those thoughts and emotions had been buried under a sea of mathematical logic.  No time for the self.  Who needs to lie to oneself when Truth works so much better?

Turn this boat around.  Back to that loving ground?  Away from the Land of Fear.  Can't we find that place?  As a people?  Can't we be those people we wish existed?  Shall we always deny our better selves?  Why?

The fever burns.  Who knew there were so many different kinds of truth to be pursued?  All one has to do is listen.    

And maybe try out another point of view.

Flying high up in the sky
I wonder why I have to have another point of view
To see me through
But now I think I'm gonna fall
I hope this isn't all
And on top of that I hope it's not the last time

--Harry Nilsson

The art is a new piece, so far entitled Delirium.

A cough amidst the delirium ignites a random irrelevant memory:

--Carol Burnett

The fever burns.  Some of what it burns away deserves to be gone.  The delirium is an alternate point of view.  My email says the solution to all of life's problems is a bigger dick...er, "love cannon."  If only they knew...

Life is a neverending story problem.  Can we find the solution before the Nothing devours our world?