The Sixth Man

A Journey Through The Mind

The drive to Indianapolis was easy and unrushed. Billy needed time to think. He became more aware of how the mind works, at least his. Thoughts are random, brought to mind by outside stimulation or something that catches his fancy when thinking about some other random thing. It seldom has a logical progression to it.

He was now Billy. Billy covered the time he was 3 or 4 until he was 14. When he saw a billboard for a car dealership it forced him to fast forward to Charles Abbot. For the present it seemed like a grueling exercise. It was like knowing five completely and unrelated languages and having to suddenly think in the language that presented itself.

He reasoned that the mental labor and drudgery he was now experiencing would someday be natural; like a person who can hold a conversation with two people at the same time who speak different languages.

There was no thread that tied all things together. He thought an actor plays many roles, but it is the same actor. He puts on personality for just a while, he takes it off, and becomes himself for a while. And while the actor plays that role he remains the same person inside. No two actors play the same role the same way. They each bring something that is their own to that role. Who is the person behind these roles?

He pondered. Perhaps this exercise is not as different than what others go through; mine is just exacerbated by a terrible affliction or a benevolent psychological defense system hard at work protecting a fragile child abandoned over 50 years ago. I know the journey, but not it’s starting point nor the vehicle of my journey.

I want to find the pure waters of the source, before it became polluted. I want to see the beginnings of the trickling of my life no matter how bleak or brutal. From what existence was I snatched or rescued? Who stood me alone and abandoned me?

There were times alone at my desk I began to contemplate these things. Like a cut the body quickly repairs itself and seals off the wound. It heals and in time it is ignored and sometime never a scar. The mind is a beautiful thing. Sometimes the body does a good job of hiding a disease. The mind does the same. It is doing so for the good of the organism. The mind is a beautiful thing – I think.

Let it wonder a while like an eagle that allows the thermals to cast its course. Soar for awhile like and eagle and dive when morsel is seen on which to feast. There is no need to fight and flap your wings, allow the natural rhythms of your mind to guide you.

Oh what a wonderful ride,” he said.

And that wonderful ride was more of a journey through the mind. It captured events and recollections like laying down a net and gathering everything worthy enough to be caught and kept.

After three and a half days on the road Billy pulled into the mobile home park where Marti lived.


Blather away, if you like.

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