Rendezvous with the depths of my mind

How many universes are there? Forget astronomical universes for a second, and imagine the universes of the human mind. Everyone has at least one inside their minds, and sometimes they dwell in them, often for longer than they ought to.

I’m certainly aware that other people have their own doorways in the back of their minds, ones that lead to infinite universes of their own, and that provokes immense curiosity in me. How amazing wouldn’t it be to be able to explore the universe inside the mind of a genius and see how he soars between the constellations of his ideas? What are the depths of the layers of a centenarian’s mind, and in which one of those layers are they floating as they prepare to say goodbye to our painful world? I wish I could tell, but I can’t.

I am, nevertheless, familiar with my own universes, and I care about them and conserve them well, even if some of them are merciless on my soul and heart. Life is a series of inevitabilities, and facing what is presented to us in the best way possible is imperative, just like cherishing the beautiful is healthy.

Sometimes, amongst my vast collection of universes, I get dragged to a place that I don’t particularly like to visit. It’s not the lack of light over there that bothers me, at least not so much as the pressure that it somehow puts on my chest, and my chest only, in a way that makes me feel as though I will cease to exist if it keeps going. It’s like all the perspective that you’ve once had, all the paths you‘ve chosen to take, and all the plans on that checklist you so dearly made, item by item, suddenly vanished. You’re spastically looking for the most valuable and irreplaceable relics in your pockets and around you, but you can’t find them. The so familiar staring-into-nothingness look makes your eyes opaque, and then you’re gone. Asinine thoughts reach out from farther stars, bringing along egregious ideas that you’re forced to fight if your desire is to escape and reach the light of an enlivened place.

And you do, you always do. What is your go-to thought? What has the power to open a bright portal right in front of you through which you can escape? What are the odds, for instance, that something as simple as an embrace has the power to transport you somewhere else, probably faster than light? Find out what summons your bright universes, as it might be your salvation. Look after what feeds your resilience, for it can mean the difference between a poor path or a star-spangled route.

You might find yourself in extremis one minute, then the next you might be transcending delightful universes.