Déjà visite

(Déjà visite, Danise Codekas, copyright2010)

Seems like I did this once before, thought I, last night, as I looked over 17 books, I had read in about a week. The past month has been a non-stop reading marathon. I read 83 books in 42 days, while drinking gallons of Argentinean Organic Mate, and excusing myself from invitations and long phone conversations. My diet consisted of fruits and shakes, from my apple and pear trees, oatmeal, homemade soups, scrambled eggs, avocado & cheese-filled croissants, garden of life green shakes, and grilled, Greek veggies in olive oil and lime, over lovely halibut steaks.

The books covered everything from mythology, architecture and 18th century erotic fiction. I began reading Latin again, and found Ovid and Hercules leaning over my shoulders, in the late evenings, as Homer argued for political ethics. The need to be home, reading, compelled a reticence not to be away, from the house. I found it comforting not to leave the house, or, if so,  for a short time, only.

I stopped writing my blog. I went to my Facebook or Twitter pages, once or twice in the past few weeks. Anyone else's blogs, fell to the way side, as the desire to fill my mind with information from books, took on a ephemeral scenario.When I began to think I was totally losing it, by unplugging from social media dialogue, and the need to know what I was supposed to be doing in my life now, with no desire to integrate anyone else's life experiences with mine, without guilt,  it became a delicious roll, into that ancient rite of reading books only.

I think I turned on the radio once or twice in a month, getting all my music stimulation from the car radio/cd player when I ventured into the nether world beyond my front door. TV was turned on a few times, at 11PM, to watch Jon Stewart, however, before a half hour of his show ending, the TV was turned off, as I rushed to pick up the book currently being devoured, by my mind.

As I look over my library and purchase receipts from the beginning of September, there are 83 books on my accounts.

The fiction covered genres and writers previously unknown, and fiction, included delving into the lives of Joe Grey and Celtic talking cat myths, to Demeter and Persephone's lives among mortals and gods.

It was almost impossible to write anything, during these last 6 weeks, as the need to consume anthologies, mysteries, scientific discoveries, and Emile Boirac's essay, where he coined the phrase Déjà vu(already lived), written while at the University of Chicago. It was during the reading of that essay, I realized my reading marathon was also a  little bit of Déjà senti (already felt).

I already felt my mind experiencing a new paradigm, previous to the reading marathon, however, all that was missing was the pieces of information needed for the new paradigm to fully engage in my life. A shift in my thought processes occurred at the end of August, as I was faced with the sudden belief I knew nothing about reality and therefore could not write my books. It was not as if all my knowledge had been erased; it was all my knowledge no longer supported my new paradigm, my evolving soul.

The information I needed for the next steps in my life's works, were standing on the edge of my consciousness. The old information is valuable; however, déjà visite (uncanny knowledge of a new place) kicked in the first 2 weeks of September, as my birthday on the 9th, integrated with cosmic energetic patterns which changed all of our lives, at many levels. I knew I was headed somewhere new and would recognize it when I arrived.

It became a race for my soul to grasp quickly new cosmic and cutting-edge advances, in arts and sciences. Information which is currently affecting changes on earth and those who inhabit it. Holding out my arms to gather up as much of this information, including how we are being described in fiction, which exhibits mass conscious agreement, with the fictionalized experiences, based on mass media's largest selling authors, directors, musicians, and artists, demonstrate where are minds are at, and how far they can be pushed into accepting new paradigms, created by others. What about my thoughts without the influence of your thoughts? What are they? What do I think without your influence?

The one thing I know to be true about mass media's darlings, although scoffed at by many literati, is there is something so subtle running through it, which comes from human's movement toward creating the next genetic advancement in our cultures' mass rise, toward higher consciousness and, of course, species evolvement.

My reading of 83 books, I now understand, was my way to kick away from old patterns, old ideas, and even other's ideas found on the Internet, in social and media blogs. It involved a deep need to seek my own understanding of what the current world is becoming, heading towards, from my knowledge of mass communications' sociological perspectives.

To take a macro-sociological view of the world, instead of the micro-infested, blog suffused ideology, which permeates most dialogue today. It was a way for me to simply turn off the over-whelming input to my mind from rock stars, news groups, political activists, literary and movie critics, and the everyday bragging, which most of us seem to under-handedly pass along to one another, through this self-created, indulgent media morass. One which I also, ascribe to, since to do otherwise would leave me with less human contact. We are all social animals, are we not?

I finished the last book this morning, and realized I had It. Satisfied with the knowledge absorbed, these past weeks, where I stopped existing on the Internet, inside of the paradoxical daily life of my past, brought me to a new understanding of what was the next word was to be in the manuscript, and what fears from the past and in the future, no longer existed in my life since a fresh perspective, of incredible optimism arose.

An uncanny knowledge of a new place was there from the beginning of September, my déjà visite. I knew it, and was yet to get there, and arriving there, this morning, as I finished book 83, realized it is a much happier and wiser place, than I had been before.