I THINK MY MIND IS MAD AT ME

 I think my mind is mad at me.  I Woke up this morning and my alarm clock, day planner,  wouldn’t come on line.   It was eerie still and quiet, and I feared something had happened to my mind.  I yelled, “Are you in there?  HELLO, HELLO, HELLO!!”  There was no answer.  I got up, sat on the edge of my bed and had not a thought.  I didn’t know what to do next.

I sat and sat, and then I started shivering. I looked around and recognized firewood and fireplace, so I got up and built a fire.  Everything around me was familiar, so I knew my mind’s filing cabinet was OK, but my mind was not telling me what I needed to do, but that all changed when my wife entered the room, and when the kids woke up, and the dog barked to go pee, and the parrot said, “Good morning, asshole.”  I trained it myself.

My wife, Sue, asked if I was going to mow the lawn today.  I got up and looked out the window at the grass.  “What’s wrong with the lawn?” I asked.  Sue said, “It needs to be shorter.”  I asked why?  “She asked if I wanted some coffee.  I didn’t know, so I just kept starring at the grass.  The kids went out to play and Sue went to the store.  Then I my body felt uncomfortable, like something was under pressure, then I felt relieved, warm and wet. What had happened?

Then I woke up from the terrifying dream and realized how valuable the mind is.  Without its memory, without its knowledge, understanding and wisdom, without its cajoling, needling, even its nagging and harassment and endless commentary, I would just be a turnip.  

My mind keeps me alive, warns me, keeps me comfortable and safe.  It worries, frets and fears injury and its untimely demise.  It’s one hell of a early warning system.  It looks into the past, contrasts the present, and tries to project the future, all for its survival, and its joys and pleasures.  My mind definitely is its own person, with many agendas, the main one being to keep the body its attached to safe, because if its host dies, it dies.  

Watching my mind, its host, and its emotions, is like watching a movie.  Damn entertaining.  It takes care of itself first because if it doesn’t, it’s history, and can’t do anything about anything, but after caring for itself, it looks out for family, then friends, and on occasion, strangers.  Watching it is very entertaining, especially since it only knows what it has learned.  

Someone might ask, “What am I?”  The answer is, I’m a ride-along, a tourist, this human’s companion.  I am the still small voice it sometimes listens to. I am the watcher, observer, the ghost-like intelligence that got to experience and learn from this temporary human that is my friend. I am what’s left when it dies.  

“I see you’re back,” said Rachel, who had been my wife, Michele, on Earth, and there was my mom, sister, and many relatives and friends, all wondering, how Tom had met his end.  I said, “He decided to leave.  One night he went to sleep, and didn’t wake up, and here I am.  And then like a flash, they all disappeared, and I was off on a new adventure.