I’m curious about this place, where the mind can no longer exert its control.
Veg-out in front of the TV. The brain cannot function anymore. Too tired. Exhausted.
No! To go to this place I have to push a little. TV or the radio are detrimental to the journey, but a pen and paper will do very nicely. I’m too tired to think that I’m not thinking and too tired to think that I’m writing. In this bleary state words and images seem to float freely in space and they don’t ask anything of me. But many times I have retrieved from thought- fragments to whole poems.
If the mind is fresh after rest then what is at the other end of the spectrum? It is not staleness. Staleness is in the middle, when the mind is bored and disinterested in whatever it is performing. The other end of the spectrum is freedom, and fatigue is one of the keys that can unlock the mind-gate and take me there.
