I was defeated with tiredness, my mind was a cloud of unclarity, my will was nought—I could perceive but not exert. I was done for.
So I slouched forward, almost in Rabbit Pose, at the huge low glass table that has become my writing table since Cuntjin left.
I saw my silhouette on the carpet … and something more. I saw the dark gray neck-sides beat with my heart. I saw the the left wave was slightly earlier than the right.
And in that moment, everything changed.
I saw that by brain is a water wheel (or houses 100 billion of them). Coursing through it are tiny rivers whose motion keep all of its wheelhouses alive. The “I” is an automaton in a wheelhouse (or a distributed automaton in 100 billion wheelhouses) animated by a water wheel that spun by the bloodstream. 100 billion robots dance, each in its own wheelhouse, not because it is alive, but because there is a wheel outside the house, being pushed by a stream.
Seeing my neck-sides chug chug chug reminded me that all the internal spinnings of my “self” are powered by streams branching from the might Mississippi coursing up my left neck-side and down the right.