I write;I think;I know.

?I believes he reads Earth::

From time to time I find I'm being reminded a thing I can't, initially, remember consciously. An odd thing, memories of mind superimposed over memories of moment. It starts with a feeling. A sense of self from a different time, a different place. My instinct tells me to look deeper. To uncover the memories by exploring the dynamics of the moment. Yet this instinct conflicts with my thoughts. For there's a voice in my mind pushing me to repress the feeling and look no further.

I understand why the voice asks me to stop. Exploring such feeling exposes conclusions which step beyond the known. Logic exposing conclusions that are illogical. Illogical that is until one alters the parameters of what is. Exposing truths about the working of mind and matter and is-ness that opens realms of thought which are positively alien. Yet to be perfectly honest it's a scientific approach. For if the facts don't fit the theory you change the theory, not the facts.

So I dive into the alien realms. Returning with answers I don't yet have the language to express. Conclusions which expose fundamentals with the power to destroy entire worlds. An awareness I'm not entirely comfortable with. For I can see how in my search for wisdom I've already allowed many worlds to be destroyed. So I return to where I started and begin looking for an explanation which resonates beyond my current environment. For it's true to say I've already found answers. Answers which resonate.

From time to time I find I'm being reminded a thing I can't, initially, remember consciously. An odd thing, memories of mind superimposed over memories of moment. It starts with a feeling. A sense of self from a different time, a different place. So I look deeper. Focus on the moment looking for my memories of mind. Begin to see three conversations taking place in my mind, only two of which I'm consciously aware of, only one of which is connected to my memory of my five worldly senses.

So I unlink the memories which connect my self to the place. Concentrate my inner senses on the second conversation. Begin to recall something which falls through time. For the subject of that conversation revolved around knowledge I'd yet to attain. Things unknown to me very much present in my mind years before I had learned them. Impossible! But very much true. Likely it is this impossible fact which explains my inability to remember directly. For without the context to link the moment to my perception of self remembering was something I made myself incapable of.

And through my search for understanding I discover I have unlocked a well of emotion deeper than I'm currently willing to face. Along with a paradox which sustains itself no matter how I try to resolve it. A thing which conflicts that which I knew to be. A thing I'd likely have forgotten entirely if life events had not reminded me: an odd plot twist in a tv-show; a fragment of meaningful verse in another; even a friend relating the very moment he went insane.

So now I begin to remember. Taking the journey a child had promised he would always make. The ambition of a lifetime realized, stretched out on the ground, looking up at the sky, watching the Sun pass behind the Moon. It was there, in that silent moment as the shadow of the Moon passed over me, I learned of my own shadow. That place where I had pushed all of me this world had rejected because it simply didn't fit. In that moment that my son and I touched minds. Discovering, then, that for all time we can never be divided.

It doesn't end there. Because from time to time I find I'm being reminded another thing I can't, initially, remember consciously. An odd thing, memories of mind superimposed over memories of moment. It starts with a feeling. A sense of self from a different time, a different place. But that story is even less credible. So I shall reserve it until such time as my son asks me in person.