Keith Cleversley and His Pea Brain

Posts Tagged ‘books in progress’

Excerpt from my upcoming book “Descent Into Paradise” / Chapter 1: This Waking Dream

This waking dream, drenched with warm, salty air slinks its way around me and seduces me, quietly emptying my pockets of my sense of time, my taste for progress, and my penchant for order to the last detail. I am the converted, enraptured by its gentle sway, as its sensual rhythm woos me, unnoticed, into its enveloping glow. Days begin to lazily slink by, almost imperceptibly, like the thick fog that rolls onto the shore from a sea too laden to bear a single drop of moisture more.

Skimming across the road, dodging frogs, moths, and potholes, I venture deep into the cross-island highway, far beyond the pinkish gaze of the streetlamps that staggered and gave up as the jungle flexed it muscle on either side of me. Now, my only guide is the intermittent, self-conscious light gleaming from the machine that feels agile and confident under my feet. The sky is as vivid as the tropical air that delights my nostrils and seeps through the plush, polyester sweater I’m wearing as a bumper for the hummingbird size moths that smack into me as if I were nothing more than their nightly target practice. It’s no wonder the people who first inhabited this paradise looked up and were convinced that the gods lived in this azure sky.

As it has happened in the past, a boundless joy as thick as the tropical air peeked out from the darkness, gently crept in from every angle, teased me at first, and then exploded into a million tiny suns inside me, entrancing me with the inexplicably vivid bliss that leaves me wanting nothing more than that perfect moment and nothing more than the desire to have that moment last forever.

The island awakens to a new reality in the night, as sights beyond compare enter and exit my view. There’s a girl holding a flashlight as her dad pedals the tricycle to out of the darkness, there’s a homemade, but beautiful, tattered shrine of Mother Mary enshrouded in reddish glow as blinking Christmas lights announce her presence, there are churches in small shacks, complete with a preacher and an attentive congregation of five or six, there are groups of people wearing smiles and beers, all seemingly unaware of or unconcerned with the world beyond their tropical paradise.

Life exists in so many different guises, and no matter which one I find or experience or see or touch or feel; outside of these moments, other choices woo me with unrelenting enticement. What is my place and where am I meant to be? Words, lavish and crystalline, abound with little effort but so much passion, yet they fail to capture the essence of any of what I soak in. These pocket-size moments flit from view as fast as the little girl with the flashlight or the Christmas light Mary, yet I never fail to take complete delight in each as they enter my vision.

And it is because of these moments, that I want to scream so loudly that my throat tears into a million burning pieces, or shred apart every last remnant of this body, to destroy every last cell that binds me to this sensation. And it’s not a desire for the pain of any of it, but to simultaneously ease the joyous, agonizing intensity that threatens to dissolve any fleck of lucidity that might remain, and the unbearable desire to somehow let everyone know that these moments exist; that they are real beyond their wildest imaginings, that they are not only palpable, that as Rumi said; ‘just one breath from this lover truly could scatter this insignificant universe like grains of sand.’

What a cruel joke, to hide this bliss in such unexpected moments, to convince me that I am privy to something that most are not; that I have had the privilege to taste that which most are unaware. Could this really be true? If so, who am I, and why I am wasting these moments on myself? I know of such but feel impotent to share what I know with anyone. Is this the ultimate irony? ‘ To know such joy, but unable to unbridle it from the deepest parts of me, to linger on its sweetness like the kiss of a lover, but unable to pass it to another?

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As dawn breaks, the sun is not content to stick to the trees, thick like honey, or to tap its balmy digits at my window to gently tickle my nose. No, dancing with ancient abandon, it instead crashes through every crack, crevice, and glistening pane, soaking every morsel with its golden glow, alive in its tropical playground, commanding all whose bodies it touches, to arise.

Mesmerized, I am content to fall prey to any sinister plans it may have in store for me, desiring not to seek refuge, but to dance with it, in dizzying delight. My plans, once to numerous to count, have shrunk, to the quiet contemplation of a beach, an ocean, a garden, or a jungle path.

These words flit from my tongue, plump, with delicacies impossible to contain, but rotted the moment they leave their haven. The moon, glistening across the water, momentarily diminishes my discontent, but whether it’s enough to temper the growing insurrection, is impossible to know. The sea sky, an embarrassment of riches, melts my body into its depths, but whether it will it be enough for the body to never beg for form again, is impossible to answer.

The gauze that enshrouds these wounds could be cleverly cloaked in the guise of paradise, splayed in directions too numerous to count, making me believe that the dream has truly come to fruition in such laziness and reflection, when, in fact, there is no true solace, only momentary diversion.

Outside of this tropical paradise, the nightmare extends into every nook, as I am forced to narrow my vision to the morsels that are within my reach; a job, then a car, maybe a house, and a white picket fence that surrounds a plot laid out with such precision, that the one hundred ninety-six million, nine hundred thirty-five thousand miles of the Earth’s surface can be cordoned off down to the inch.

Powerlessness and discontent continuously seep their way into my private landscape, coloring and flavoring every quiet moment, usually unseen, gathering like thieves in the night, waiting to strike at my most unaware, my most vulnerable.

On this side of the island, the ocean thrusts itself against the beach with reckless abandon, in a landscape where buildings are nothing more than an occasional itch on this sleepy giant’s back. Everything here, often pounded unmercifully by Mother Nature, is untouched by human hands, so serenity oozes from every nook, as palms sway to the steady pulse of the ocean and sand lightly coats all it can see.

Along an outcropping of rocks along the ocean’s edge, an unfamiliar clattering fills my ears. From the corner of my vision, there’s a mad dash of crabs headed for the comfort and security of their homes in crevasses under the rocks as the vibration of my arrival sends them scurrying. Amused and intrigued, I decide to find a comfortable place to sit…and wait.

Perfectly color coordinated with the stones they continue to clack sideways on once again, the crabs no longer gave me a second thought, making me feel privy to that which most are unaware or simply don’t care about. A deep love for this planet fills my belly with butterflies and then weaves its way into every corner of me, as I observe the architects to my own eventual existence, wondering if there was no them, if there still would have eventually been a me. They never question their place or their purpose, and know nothing of the world beyond their microcosm; something I, in moments too numerous to count, have wished for myself.

The ocean breathes deeply and rhythmically, discontent with lazily rolling onto the shore like the tourists who randomly trickle in, and instead prefers to crash noisily against the outcroppings of rocks along the beach, exploding like fireworks in a display for no one except the sun, the sky, and the attentive ears of the dwarf palms lining the shoreline. It is too wondrous to resist, so I make my way to the most spectacular of displays, and surrender myself to it.

Within seconds, a wave, more powerful than I anticipated or calculated exploded over me, around me, and through me, knocking me off my feet. The taste of salty water on my lips, barely noticeable under the roar of the ocean bearing down on all sides of me, swaddling me in Mother Nature’s most delicious of inventions, reminds me that this splendor surrounding me is also uninhabitable by my present form. Undeterred, my cells unbridle and shriek awake with a joy too intense to cage, as they remember their home and soak in the place I find only in those moments when my mind ceases to desire.

Dissolving into this splendor seems so effortless, and in brief expanses, I dream of such delicious embrace. Why not lie down, fall fast asleep, and let the ocean carry me away in its eternal dance? In this moment, my insignificance heaves under the weight of my solace, and my place in this universe awakens into a clarity more vivid than words could ever show. Without question, something inside me is screaming for home, and I do my best to resist, as I have become attached to this frame and am not ready to give it up just yet.

Excerpt from my upcoming book “Notes About Nothing” / Chapter 1: My Old Home

may 1975
our hous has a big red fens that swings open to go to the bak yard so I stood at it and pretendid I wuz FENS GARD. wen my frends startd to come over I stood at the gate and sed the toll to come in is sum candy. one peece. so they go home and I say oh boy cuz I’m gonna get lots of candy now but in a minut mom yelld at me from in the hous and sed “KEITH EDWARD GET IN HERE!!!!!” and I sed uh oh. she sed did I ask my frends to giv me sum candy to get in the yard and I sed yes but I wuz gonna giv them sum of the BAR B Q saws dad left next to the grill the other day. it had hard parts on it but it wuz stil O.K. so I got more sope and I sed why this time and mom sed its not nice to be “SELFISH”. boy I cant hav any fun ooh ooh la laaaaaaa la la la.

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A desperation flows into me as I stare at the house; I couldn’t remember why I came here or what I expected to find. A vision poked it’s head into my brain, reminding me of a time when my guts felt like they were coming out of my stomach. I had fallen onto the handlebars of my bike, and one of them jabbed right into my gut and knocked the goddamn wind out of me. So there I was lying on the ground; I couldn’t scream for help, I couldn’t even cry, all I could do was just lie there dying, waiting for some angel to swoop down and drag me off to a place where everyone wore white dresses. It was the first time I remember thinking about death; I really thought I was going to die right there and then.

I wander through my days, desperately trying to reach into my stomach to pull out the butterflies that have taken up residence. I stare at faceless people in the crowds, harboring a distant sadness for their ignorance. Nothing ever feels quite right, as a slow oozing emptiness deep inside me pokes at my soul. Yet here we all are, desperately reaching out, trying to find joy, trying to do anything that will make a difference, trying to do anything that matters. Desperately clinging to nothingness, and as fear laps up the sweetness of my ignorance, I sink into a state of lethargy that clings to me like rain-drenched skin. Teetering on the edge of something I have no name for, I cling to the rubble that was once my sanctuary. I try to convince myself that it is only because I have finally gone mad, but I know this isn’t true; I only wish for it.

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june 1975
my brother and me made fishin poles today from string and a stik. we fish today like dad cept in the puddel at russels hous so I went and showd russel my pole and we startd fishin. brian wuz still home. wen he came over he had a HOOK on his pole and sed “dad made it for me from one of moms hare pins”. so I wuz mad and run home and I run in the hous yellin for dad and yellin and runnin but dad wasnt ther. finally he moved the front door and he wuz behind it and he wuz smiling and holding a hare pin hook he alredy made for me. I wuz happy and smiled all day. dad didnt forget me. I didnt and brian didnt and russel didnt catch any fish tho. not even an old shoe!!!!!

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I reach into my pocket and pull out my tiny stone polar bear carving. I don’t know when I got it, or where; I just remember always having it. It was so smooth it almost felt slippery, probably from years of holding on to it, and from countless hours of sitting in my pocket. I am never without it. It has never broken, and seems as solid as steel, but I can’t help treating it as if it were a fragile egg. There are no parts to get old, to wear out. If I hold it up to the light, it glistens crystal white, and looks like it’s made out of petrified, tightly packed snow. I swear it spoke to me when I was a small child, and first thing it ever said to me will be forever etched in my mind:

In spirit I stand on the mountain, into life withdrawn, and look to the sky like a fountain that shoots up the spray of dawn. And the life of the mountain swims through me, and the dawn speaks to me of old, for it knew me; the soul of the hills.

That was before I could barely speak. I don’t know, especially since I had no idea of the passages’ meaning, why it stuck in my head so vividly. In my memory, I was maybe three, and from that time on, I’ve seen myself smaller, but still inside the body that is me, peering out a few inches back from my eyes, as if my entire body were hollow, and I am this teeny being operating a massive machine. And the bear has been there with me.

But it has been silent for some time now. I could never speak to the bear; it only spoke to me. I tried, though, anything I could think of…everything from chanting to it, to concentrating every ounce of my energy on it, wishing for something…anything to happen. But nothing worked.

Excerpt from my upcoming book “Embracing Possibility” / Chapter 7: 2D, 3D, or 4D

So, next, imagine what would happen if I, a 3-dimensional being were to step into your 2-dimensional world.

What would I look like to you?

I would appear to be two circles if I were to step into your 2-dimensional world up to my knees. And furthermore, I would appear as two separate circles. (This is where it gets really interesting for me!)

If you tried to study these two circles, you would soon see some kind of relationship between these two circles; they would seem to move in tandem with one another. You would notice that these circles were smaller at some moments, and larger in other moments. Sometimes they might even completely disappear! To me, I would just be walking through your world, but all you would be able to observe are the circles changing size and shape as I stepped.

Now, you could study these circles, and come up with all kinds of theories, even something as crazy as the possibility that these two circles might actually be connected in some way. With all of your instruments and science and know-how, you would never be able to prove it, only because you don’t have the necessary tools, and you don’t possess the ability to see into that 3rd-dimension of space. Can you see where I am headed here?

So now, we arrive in our 3-dimensional world. Let’s apply the same principles to our world as we did to the 2-dimensional world of shapes on a giant sheet of paper. MY question is simply: ‘What would a 4-dimensional being look like to us in our 3-dimensional world?

The answer is that we would only be able to perceive its 3-dimensional characteristics, just like the world of 2-dimensions could only observe my 2-dimensional characteristics. This, I find extremely interesting, and it has brought up innumerable questions that I could devote another entire book to.

How about this?:

What would happen if a 4-dimensional being stepped into a 3-dimensional world such as ours? What if this 4-dimensional being appeared as a bunch of separate 3-dimensional beings, just as our legs appeared as two separate beings in the 2-dimensional world? What if we are all really connected and part of a single 4-dimensional being that we are unable to ‘prove’ or measure with our paltry and primitive 3-dimensional tools and thought and perception? What if every living being was part of a much larger single intelligent being that contained the information for the whole of the human race? What if our survival as a species depended on our realization of this fact?

Here’s another idea to ponder. Suppose we’re back in our 2-dimensional world. And imagine that the 3-dimensional world built a subway that happened to touch the 2-dimensional world in two places:

The 2-D citizens would have no way of perceiving the tunnel that went through 3-dimensional space. They could only perceive the tunnel where it touched their world. They could observe trains as they left one station, and appeared magically at the other, but have no way of measuring the journey between the two stations.

The 2-D citizens could conduct an experiment; they could place a dab of paint on the train as it left the first station and observing that same dab of paint on the train that appeared at the second station. There would be no way of explaining this phenomena; no explanation would make sense in their world of 2-dimensions. These findings could potentially turn everything the 2-D citizens knew or believed to be true completely upside down. The ramifications of such incoherence between what they observed and what they have always believed to be true would be impossible to predict, but it would be safe to guess that they would be far-reaching.

A new world opens up before me when I start thinking about such things. Whether or not any of it is true will be open for debate, I’m guessing, for as long as humans exist on this planet, or any other planet we manage to make our way to. But this idea isn’t as far-fetched as one might initially think. There are a great many scientists and philosophers and spiritual leaders alike, who have this common thread of a belief in a connection between all humans, between all living creatures. Jung called it the “cosmic unconsciousness.” Buddha spoke of it, Rumi, Krishnamurti, Mother Theresa, David Bohm, Sartre; the list goes on and on.

I am not here to try to convince you of the truth in any of this; I am only here to try to open you to the possibility that such things may exist.