quick note to self

I poke my face through the thin, permeable membrane of the world to purchase a bottle of red wine. No sooner had I collected change and Cabernet is cradled to chest than I re-immerse into my introspective view of everything, peering into proximity and participating in the space ahead from the periphery, the outer limits, so to speak. I am an outsider looking in on the world, and especially on myself.

I cannot quarantine myself from the effects of living; therefore, introspective viewing is not isolation, the punishment imposed upon those considered too vile to live among other villains. It is most certainly not vicarious living, that old conniving kin of eavesdropping. I am neither invisible nor indistinct.

Knowing the possible reaction to ones direct action is clear and self-evident most of the times. The possible impact of ones actions on the (infinite)set of indirect reactions, though, is often left unchecked. Introspective viewing is seeing not just for the sake of having vision. It is perpetual once-over of the soul, vision over vision, realizing probable effects of input beforehand.

To be continued … .

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