Ants & Telepathy

“Mosquitoes pay ants no mind. They lack the sustenance needed. And as I watch what looks like some kind of ant highway, a daddy long-legs marches above them through the tall grass.

Species that don’t bother eachother.

I don’t trouble them, but by my very nature I couldn’t live among them.

I’m too big.

And that’s why the mosquitoes like me.”

Do you think ants see themselves as individuals?

Not family relations, but the insects.

I mean If you take the thought experiment to say that maybe they could have a sense that they are one among many and not in the sense that they have thoughts and feelings. But I mean they could for all we really know.

Apparently the more ants you have in a group, the smarter they become, which seems to be the exact inverse of humanity.

In that regard, perhaps ants all feel and sense the collective colony, seeing the world as one organism. Rather than a bunch of ants working at menial goals, they understand the implications of it all, their place in it as more of an appendage. They would probably feel themselves closer to a plant, with far stretching roots and systems.

Such things would require a certain degree of what we would call telepathy. Whether you believe in it or not, I don’t think if it existed that it would be as simple as “talking” in other people’s heads. Words were around much later from any biological ability. It would be in feelings, images. or just plain impulses to do things.

I recently read that aboriginal Australian tribes have a “system” where when they feel a twitch or a pain randomly in their body, they can touch that place on them, enter a meditative state and somehow “see” a relative (an aunt if you will) or a location that they know. All the article told me was that it was startlingly accurate, as telepathy was just a small caveat to a greater conclusion about the brain.

In this busy world of business we live in of internet and numbers, perhaps that key part of the brain was lost or clouded from us. Perhaps it’s still there somewhere deep inside. It could be for all we know.

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Weight

The thoughts swell in my head drowning out the fading light of my purpose.The signal fails and the path is an exhausted sand. Footsteps stumbling down a corridor of snagging spikes and tugging prickers tearing at my body into a past places with only one conclusion at my destiny.

I carry a stone strapped to my back through the winding tunnel of brambles. My burden to bear, It is a blank weight that tells nothing but it’s presence. It grows with each step I take, with each hope I hold, with each attempt to find the liquifying light ahead, It’s weight is that of nothingness, a blank weight, it coils around my body and paralyzes the fire of spite and hatred strength within me. That hatred, that love, that desire beyond that world of those who watch peril with clouded eyes. I regard them cloudedly. I stumble through my world with a crushing gravity stunting my ability. Holding me back from weaving through the world

the weight of the stone, the pain of the thorns, the dumb eyes of the world. The way to the light is within me. The will, the ability is there but I cannot tap it, I can only watch and strain each step as though it were my last a thousand times over.

Radio

The radio sputtered with static. Garbled voices of various pitches whirred into focus and then away with the rapid switch between stations. A band of blue green light waved with the frequencies in the center of the console behind scratched and dirty glass. The green numbered preset buttons below stood at attention between two knobs outlined with neon orange against the darkness of the cabin.

The static waved like rain on a metal roof, became interlaced with pops and waves, or receded for a moment to give way to the muffled voice of some alien creature. Nothing clear or decipherable could be heard. In the vast world of radio frequencies, nothing was picked up by the device.

Lynda swiveled her chair away from the window.

“It’s busted. Why do you keep trying.” Her crossed arms ignored the brown canvas of the puffy foam passenger chair.  Beyond the glass behind her, the neon lights of the spaceway and other ships in the night moved quickly across the stars.

“You don’t have any appreciation for frequency jumping do you?” Said Grivo. The little fox looking alien stood on the edge of the pilot’s chair, his claws digging into the imitation leather material. One of his furry hands was on the console of the radio and the other held the wheel.  His face was alight with an animal curiosity at the radio while the frequency band reflected blue green off of his dark glistening eyes.

The sounds of the dead radio whirred and jumped some more around the hi-fi rigged surround sound system of the ship’s cabin. The strange and abstract noises from mysterious sources fell flatly on Lynda whose face somehow depressed further into her crossed arms. The blaring static and garbage noise polluted her mind with a rising landfill of rage until she snapped.

She flung her arms out at the little creature.

“CANT YOU PLEASE JUST PUT ON A SONG for gods… sake-”

Just at that moment, her wide eyes cooled. Her mouth hung open and her arm muscles relaxed as a driving back beat of pedal drum and bass guitar smited her. With crystalline clarity the groove arose from the sea of static. The song was graced with the presence of a guitar. It’s silver strings vibrating smoothly along the frets. A soft soulful saxophone meandered above it all.  The notes hit her like heat to butter. A lone voice took over singing words in another language which could have meant anything to her.

The song had a magical effect on her until the saxophone’s solo was beginning to rise and a curtain of dense static dropped over the experience.

“Eh, not my favorite tune. Too lounge music don’t you think?” said Grivo turning the dials with a fervency once more.

“Hey! Change it back!” said Lynda

“Oh you liked it?”

“YES! That song was from Earth!”

Grivo looked back with a confused tilt.

“My home planet.”

The static continued around them, Grivo seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Lynda furrowed her brow. “It made me nostalgic.”

Grivo flicked his wrist and the music smoothly retook the cabin. Lynda sat back in the chair and swiveled it towards the window. Grivo let go of the dial and focused his eyes and both hands on piloting. The white and yellow electronic lines on the glass showed the safest lanes of travel as ships switched between them. Their thrusters were a myriad of colors.

“I have no idea what nostalgia is. But it must be nice for you humans. I ether like music or I don’t.” Said Grivo

“No.” Said Lynda “It’s not like that…it’s …well…uh…It’s that the music makes me think about other things. Nostalgia is like a kind of homesick…but for memories too…”

It was Grivo’s turn to furrow his brow. “Why would you want to be homesick?”

“It’s not like that- just- just forget it, lets just listen to the song in peace.” Said Lynda, her arms resuming their crossed position. She looked out the window at the approaching hyper-jump gate, in orbit around Gatamine while french smooth jazz played around the alien’s spaceship.

Part 2 —> http://bit.ly/1BxzbWa

 

Here We have Myself And mi Amego Fast Fingers Fitch, The first song was written by yours truly and sung by Fast fingers. This was The Dog’s Meow at the Collabrative music project at Green Mt Collage. Band’s were randomly chosen and had one week to come up with a set. The Dog’s meow made up of Jason “dragon harp” Pratley and…George fast fingers Fitch.
(wammer jammer jam) (Right angle sleep) (Long Grey Mare [Fleetwood mac]) (Bring it on home [Led Zepplen])