Thinking about the feeling of being in the congregation and sensing the spirit of God in the voices and exclamations and gestures of others and that riccochet effect of it coming to you as you reflect on your own life in detailed knowlege whilst you also receive transmissions of the lives of others through the tone of their cry and the convulsion of their body and the ferverence of their prayer. Feel them step outside themselves and have that core component that made them a seperate self get carried away in a wash, in a sea, in a flood of others. Thinking about how the spirit of God was like a combination of the souls present. How the spirit of God was a river of deep emotions we couldn't even speak of. Of still waters that ran so deep we couldn't hold our heads above the surface.

I think about the moments from all our lives that we didn't dare speak of, that we couldn't comprehend, about the pain and suffering from our lifetime and the lifetimes of those that had formed us, the pain that we were born with, the joy that would eventually surface.

Thinking about my dads account of an evil spirit entering their house, opening windows and outing the paraffin - and because his Mum was Christian she prayed and spoke in tongues and cast it out, and because his Uncle didn't follow God he cursed and swore and swung his cutlass. But they all felt it. And it left.

Thinking about my moms story of the dogs that slept under their house going crazy at the same time each night, which happened to be the same time a drunk man had once walked by and met his end.

Thinking about my how my deceased Great grandmother appeared in a dream to a relative that lived in another town saying that the cousin that was staying at the house had thrown pee from the bed pan on her whilst she was walking around the house at night to protect her grandchildren, and that when that relative went to tell the cousin what she dreamt, the cousin admitting to throwing pee out the window instead of going to the outside toilet because she didn't want to go outside at night.

I think about this in the layers of our seen and unseen frequencies. About how we are both falling and rising through space and no amount of maths can ground us. Can map or navigate us.

I don't know if there is a map that will take us to where we need to go here. I don't think what is happening here is mapping - more like sense revelry - falling through different levels of sensing. But because the levels are cyclically connected its more of a fall through several interconnected rotations and you can fall in any direction, at any time, for however long you want. Because why should a spirit move the way a body does?

Thinking about the feeling of being in the congregation and sensing the spirit of God in the voices and exclamations and gestures of others and that riccochet effect of it coming to you as you reflect on your own life in detailed knowlege whilst you also receive transmissions of the lives of others through the tone of their cry and the convulsion of their body and the ferverence of their prayer. Feel them step outside themselves and have that core component that made them a seperate self get carried away in a wash, in a sea, in a flood of others. Thinking about how the spirit of God was like a combination of the souls present. How the spirit of God was a river of deep emotions we couldn't even speak of. Of still waters that ran so deep we couldn't hold our heads above the surface.

I think about the moments from all our lives that we didn't dare speak of, that we couldn't comprehend, about the pain and suffering from our lifetime and the lifetimes of those that had formed us, the pain that we were born with, the joy that would eventually surface.

Thinking about my dads account of an evil spirit entering their house, opening windows and outing the paraffin - and because his Mum was Christian she prayed and spoke in tongues and cast it out, and because his Uncle didn't follow God he cursed and swore and swung his cutlass. But they all felt it. And it left.

Thinking about my moms story of the dogs that slept under their house going crazy at the same time each night, which happened to be the same time a drunk man had once walked by and met his end.

Thinking about my how my deceased Great grandmother appeared in a dream to a relative that lived in another town saying that the cousin that was staying at the house had thrown pee from the bed pan on her whilst she was walking around the house at night to protect her grandchildren, and that when that relative went to tell the cousin what she dreamt, the cousin admitting to throwing pee out the window instead of going to the outside toilet because she didn't want to go outside at night.

I think about this in the layers of our seen and unseen frequencies. About how we are both falling and rising through space and no amount of maths can ground us. Can map or navigate us.

I don't know if there is a map that will take us to where we need to go here. I don't think what is happening here is mapping - more like sense revelry - falling through different levels of sensing. But because the levels are cyclically connected its more of a fall through several interconnected rotations and you can fall in any direction, at any time, for however long you want. Because why should a spirit move the way a body does?