Dear Lover

23:52 (that would be the time, GMT-style)

Chieh's bloggedy blog may have just inspired me to start up this racket again. Provided I only do these stream-of-consciousness posts -- as it has occurred to me that once-upon-a-time I used to write would-be lovers late at night, when I had weird thoughts that I wanted to spill onto someone else; didn't feel I could contain in my head. But I don't have those people any more. And I'm starting to realize that they served a useful purpose -- someone to straighten out my craziness I guess. Bounce off against, and then they would come back with some response that wouldn't outright say that I was crazy, and something within in me would be satiated. At ease. The anxiety of thoughts buzzing around late at might like mosquitoes with nowhere to land after they'd already gone round and round in my brain, finally flung out and lighted, planted in the arm of someone who likely minded them less than I did.

BUT what I really wanted to say is that I made a connection between Murakami and neuroscience tonight.

I've been listening quite a bit to Dan Siegel, who is friends with Steven Spielberg and Goldi Hawn and once showed up with a brain on Anderson Cooper's (short lived?) show, and consulted with, or at least has been in the presence of the Dalai Lama... presented to Google, once went to Harvard Medical School, then dropped out to be a fisherman, then went back... oh... if only I had gone back to some of the things I dropped out of doing... but I did not... so there you have it... anyway, Mr. M.D. Daniel Siegel is this neuroscientist who is adamant that our brains are actually *systems* of energy processors ... all this energy is floating about, and we are just systems... little system nodes within the entire system... which is... well, the whole thing.. the whole universe. And where this gets to Murakami is that is that there are these peaks within our systems which are the fixed ideas... going to dinner... having salmon for dinner... but down below the fixed idea is *possibility* -- an even white noise, only probably less noisy, of calm serenity, of possibility... where we have not yet gone to dinner, or settled on dinner, or settled on what we want to have for dinner... and in that space, is possibility -- and where there is possibility without fixed ideas, there is infinite possibility -- and the more our system can rest, can be in this state, can rein in our fixed ideas that haven't even materialized yet of salmon dinners or whatever... of Harvard medical degrees. Well *that* is where true novelty, creativity, the unthinkable comes, can happen. But it takes attention. Focus. Focus on allowance, and ease, and okayness with the allowance of nothing -- for that state to be there, for the infinite possibilities to be available to us. And frankly, that's what I think Murakami does in his books. 

For the longest time I thought I liked Murakami books because his characters were so lost, but they were so okay with being lost. I thought maybe they just had this inner knowing that something would happen. No. That's a lie. I didn't think they knew -- but they were so transfixingly OKAY with not knowing. Their life was in shambles. Shit. Strange. Lost. Confused. And they could just sit in a well and hold a baseball bat.

How many of us could lose our jobs and our wife and have no idea what to do with our lives and instead of drinking or eating or going and joining Cross Fit or something stupid could JUST SIT IN A WELL. A cold cool well, on our own. AT ease? Waiting. When that seems like the most counter-productive thing well, possible.

But that's what Murakami knows (or what he's tapped into) that this Daniel MD also seems to know -- that at this at-ease state, there is infinite possibility. And Murakami demonstrates that. Has it show up. Opens us up to that world of where infinite possibility lies with Cutty Sark in hand. Glass clinking and ice cubes. 

Anyway, Murakami's new book comes out this summer (in the UK at least) (which explains his story in the New Yorker... which led me to look him up and find the announcement) and I'm excited. There are dark stars outside. A 3/4 moon covered in haze. And there's no place I like better than the realm of infinite possibility. If only some day I could be totally at ease and get there, write there, myself. True dreams.

Love,

Whitney xoxox