My body lives in 2014. My mind belongs to 2064. Yes, it can be a difficult task to physically be in one place — while the rest of you, and your wishes and wants and intentions — are fifty years in the future, but that’s the disconnected task of living in a virtual world with an INTJ personality; to be, rather than to seem.

It is a purposeful  — if directed and dedicated — effort to work fifty years ahead of the curve, and some of the work I do there echoes and reverberates back here if you’re attuned to the sound and the vibration, but even if one is unable to sense what I’m throwing over my shoulder, I’m confident that when time arcs and compresses and catches up with me in the future, all will be well and understood because, by that time, the stuff I will have continued to leave behind will be another half-century/half-dollar in front of of those who have just arrived in 2064.

It’s a perpetual motion, thing; easily invented, simple to propagate. Creating waves today that crash the shoreline half a century later. Acting now for a future result while still being relevant in the now.

It has taken me most of my life to realize I think and wonder and act and behave outside the mainstream mind — and while I don’t mind that, those who are literal and necessarily stuck in the row, tend to be resentful and unbelieving — again, I don’t mind any of that, really, because I’m not exactly here enough to care.  My body bleeds in real time, but my thought process and planning are happening in an ever-after “realer” time in a galaxy far, far, away.

The trick of this living is creating something now that has a built-in 50-year longevity.  Most of it happens.  Some of it is bound to purposefully decay over time because the whim of the universe commands imperfection and failure for all species to survive and evolve.

None of this is intended to be hubristic or even sniff of melancholia — it’s just the way things are, and I divine great pleasure in trying to predict angles and trends that haven’t happened — and I’ve preserved some of this process through the creation of my Prairie Voice Archive now hosted as Boles.com.

Over the past six months, as I’ve added up and riddled down that new archive site of what I’ve done and who I am and where I was and where this is all pointing, I have been filled with joy to read so much of my old work that is just now coming to common fruit.

Some may feel it’s too bad I was so far ahead way back then while so many publishers were not.  That’s why publishing my own work has been a great gift.  I may now freely propagate what I know and what I think I know and I place my bets against myself fifty years from now — and I will have landed solidly in the truth by leaving bright breadcrumbs from where I never belonged. Evidence must always be, in the end, eminently traceable. Verification matters.

I realize this conversation may seem odd and existential, but it is grounded in a hard reality and a true self.  That’s why nothing that happens now really matters in the longer run, because the real effect of living is a parallel happening elsewhere, in the sort of same uncanny real time, but wound and compressed and too early and awaiting to de-clock.

Do not be afraid to think in a different way. Do not fear valuing the elsewhere over the present. You are not your body. You are of the arc of the mind in thought. Nobody need understand you. Answer only to yourself. If you get it, that’s all that matters.

Esse quam videri. To be, rather than to seem.

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