Flashing

Note 1: The Abyss

 I will begin with two quotes. First, Nietzche's words: "And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee." (Beyond Good and Evil). Second, the words of Joseph Campbell: "The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek." (The exact work that this quote belongs to appears to be unknown).

  I have simply heard Nietzche's opinion on the abyss in passing, in movies/TV or from someone I don't remember now. Up until the Google search I conducted on the quote about ten minutes ago, I interpreted it in an undefined way with the gist of it being that if you're to dwell upon something dark, it'll affect you in a negative light. My interpretation of it was malformed, as you can see. Provided with some context and a skimming of others' opinions on the sentiment, I now take it to mean thus: you will become what you dwell on, whether it be positive or negative or neither.

  I had not heard Campbell's words before the search I conducted. The quote was cited by someone who responded to the forum post about Nietzche's words. But, the minute I saw this quote, I must admit I felt a tingle of hope for the journey I have embarked on. The quote I take to mean thus: what you seek is found in a place that you are afraid of. I will depart from these quotes for now to explain this note's existence.

  After my recount of the day's failed journey, I took off my hand-me-down glittering tights and my short, plaid skirt. I put on a pair of gray, soft men's pajama pants. The overhead light in the room pulses when you turn it on, which I did so that I could snuggle up with Gulliver's Travels. The room is a bit chilly today, the outside temperature reaching only fifty-five, I'm glad October is finally settling in for the long haul. My boyfriend sat at the desk across the room and still does now. I shivered as my eyes grew weary. I'd read through nearly half of the book since yesterday. Each turn of the crisp pages is a delicious sensation like that of biting into a freshly picked apple. But, as I explained, I was becoming sleepy, my eyes disagreeing with my desire to continue on to the next chapter.

  It is fitting to say that I was not sound of mind since my writing. I felt weak in my explanations and that not only had I failed to trigger a flash, but I'd also failed to convey the strange things I encounter on a day-to-day basis. Sleep welcomed me in her embrace, warming me with enclosure and gentle imaginations to drift off with. I dreamt of my past friendships. I dreamt of how my old friends and I would be shown to have changed much if ever we became friends at present time. Still, the feeling of our bond pierced me in this dream.

  I awoke to my boyfriend's thick, deep voice as he discussed "the aircraft carrier" with his friends through a Skype call: they were playing some video game or other. Rolling over, I saw his pale skin from the light of his two monitors. I lied still, half asleep and staring at him. He didn't notice me, not even when I shifted to sit up and check the time. I've seen him often in this sort of light, the light of the dark, which nowadays is a computer screen. He is lit up in the night, sitting in the spotlight of a stage that is our room.

  I was anxious, my worries mainly consisting of my growling stomach. "I haven't eaten enough today," I reflected, nervously. The abyss spoke to me through these worries and reminded me of my past. That time, in the past when I let myself be enveloped by nostalgia and emotion, my disconnect from the world around me led me to a cliff that I nearly jumped off of. I stood up and walked over to the man illuminated behind his desk, and I fell into his arms.

  I had awaken with a strong sense of clarity, and the narrations returned to my head while I was preparing a package of rice noodles. The kitchen is as cool as the bedroom, if not colder for there are four windows in the living room which is separated from the kitchen by nought more than a difference of flooring. I grin now at my temperature analysis and at my enjoyment of Autumn's chill. The main point which had become clear to me is thus: I was not to give up on my venture.

  This is not to say that I had truly considered giving up on my search in the first place. I was merely discouraged and a bit scared. I do have a history with this sort of diving into the abyss of mind. However, there are considerable differences between this pending journey and the last. In the past, I had not a strong foothold in the rock wall of reality. I actually had given myself to my emotions and past as an attempt to remove myself from a world I so rejected. I could deem my difference, isolation and loneliness to be an effect of being denied by the system. This is a debatable statement for me; did the system reject me, or did I reject the system first? I'd had this thought earlier today, walking back home as the wind picked up and the birds chirped like the sounding of many doorbells being rung in partial synchronization. The trees are indeed thinning out, their fallen leaves littering the ground. And I had thought also at an even earlier time, as I walked the sidewalk that ran the edges of campus, that I would go out of my way to kick up the yellow leaves as a recreational activity if I were not playing the role as an invisible observer.

  The thought of my invisibility had come to me as I balanced along the elevated stone that lined the popular walkway. This was before I'd veered through the woods. I saw some people coming up the brick path, and I looked for them to look at me. "You're invisible; they can't see you," a voice, undoubtedly my own, whispered at the back of my mind. Ah, and I agreed with myself. I am simply trying to look upon these people; it does not matter what they think of me. I do not need to see their faces when they look my way. I can relinquish my insecurity. One was a pudgy man, carrying a large bean bag cushion. He was accompanied by two women, whose looks I don't quite recall.

  I wondered, "This invisibility and removal of myself, is it the cave?" "Are you my abyss?" I ask myself. I saw some more passerby's as I ventured. There was a girl sitting in the library; I feared she was looking at me as I pondered the bookshelves. Her hair was brown and pulled back. She wore a sweatshirt and had beading brown eyes. "Are you my abyss?" I asked again. The lights may have flickered then, the color trying to drain from the world for me. I was content searching for old books I'd read in high school: Ethan Frome and 1984, the latter of which is a dear favorite of mine. What I mean to say is that perhaps I didn't notice the grayscale blooming around me.

  When I'm waltzing down the main street that runs through the heart of campus, I live for the billowing of my coat behind me, for the empowerment I feel as I can be whoever I wish. I feel like any number of anime characters I've admired in the past year; I feel like who I want to be. If I look into that abyss, then I will come out with the treasure, as I will be who I want to be.

  I look for the meaning in the censures of time that I experience. My power lies in the ability to amplify a feeling, to magnify it in order to get a better look. I'm scared to let myself walk forward into the cave that is also an abyss, and this feeling makes me smirk with satisfaction.