Here's a little something that's been circulating in the plumbing of my mind recently.

A statement: In the beginning, there was... No, that's not it... Here we go. A Statement: In the mind there is an infinite field of black mud with small gray grub-like worms wriggling about in the dim light of the subconscious. Some wriggle on top, and some burrow within the ooze of our lower minds, and some, only a few at a time, fulfill their special purpose.

Set within this field of mud are small mounds of dry black dirt, like ant hills, that are immune to mud and never get wet.

There aren't many of these small mounds of dry dirt sitting on the infinite plains of grub infested mud, but there are enough. At every point in time there are grubs burrowing to the tops of these mounds of dirt from the mud underneath. It burrows up and up until it pops free and wriggles tall amidst the surrounding grubs all equally searching for a fulfillment to their own special purposes.

If a worm could smile, this one would be all teeth.

The act of surfacing attracts the birds of the mind that will swoop down and pick up the grub and bring it to the great granite monoliths of the conscious mind where they nest inside deep caves of knowledge. There the bird creature eats the grub and in death, the grub releases the idea, the philosophy, and even the brief flash of brilliance that frightens so many people.

The energy of the grub's death is absorbed by the walls of the cave and there it is transformed from a wriggling seed of an idea into an unprovoked and often times deep and profound thought in the conscious mind.

So the conscious mind could be considered to be huge granite mounds and cliffs the size of mountain ranges seperated by the vast black muddy expanses of unconscious. There the real battle lies. From the first day of self realization to the last, the huge granite scabs of the conscious mind try to grow and cover the subconscious. They strive to bury it and keep it covered, so that the flying creatures can not bring the subsconsious grubs high up into the conscious mountains.

The curse of consciousness is that through it you know truth, as far as it knows it. And nothing matters but the truth. But the ideas from the black mud bring questioning and confusion to what is known to be truth. In order to keep truth unsullied and unspoiled, the conscious mind allows the granit monolithic scabs to become larger and larger until there is hardly a spot of mud left for the birds find grups.

So back to the worms.

What is the difference between a man like Leonardo de Vinci and Joe from Joe's Tackle Shop down on fisherman's row?

Did Leonardo de Vinci, the greatest inventor, artist, scientist, and mathematician of his time and possibly of all time simply have smarter grubs in his mind? Did he have more of them? Did he have more subconscious ant hills for them to be exposed to the birds of the mind?

I think all of our grubs are similar, and we all have the same amount of mud for them to burrow around in.

The differences are the filters we use in our daily lives. How many of us WANT to hear the ideas and inspirations our own grubs have to offer us? Have we grown accustomed to having dreams and inspirations given to us via outside means, such as the media? Is it possible to distinguish between an original inspiration coming from our subconscious worms than an inspiration given to us by an outside entitiy?

And really, does it matter? Does it matter to most people where inspiration comes from, where they get ideas, whether or not they are regurgitating information that have been force fed them for their entire lives and thinking it profound?

That's the difference. Believing and recognizing inspirations and ideas that come from your own worms and not the worms of society. The subconscious grubs of genius and sometimes insanity hold more truth than the morning paper. For isn't insanity the mirror image of genius? And how many people actually want to dip into their own muddy pool of insanity in search of genius and mad inspiration that might lead to different truth?

Society frowns upon change. However, progress can only happen with change. The mad scientists who listen to their subconscious grubs are the ones who will and do make advances in all areas of humanity- science, art, literature, the cure for baldness- and we should embrace them as well as our own grubs.

I've always known the world runs on worms, and now it seems that so do our minds. What remains is to help people understand by living and doing and making the most out of the inspirations that come from the grubs of the subconscious, and being verbal and loud about new inspirations that come from inside. Maybe if a person on the street sees me or you listen to our personal mind worms, then that person might give their own ideas and inspirations more than just a passing glance, but rather a serious moment of thought and perhaps even truth.

Then we will be successful and then we will make a difference.

Copyright © 2002 by Scot Ranney

"Oh 'tis the scurby waddle which perbs the
slippant vumlop, or say the clig mullert."

Mambo Scrambe
est 1995, copyright © TM