not nice


The Incredulous Niceness of Being – oven baked fries with yinyang mayo-tomato sauce… no, not nice… just a snack for a hungry girl.

Space of Mind. For a moment, let’s try to drop the Theories of Mind. Yes. Space. Shall we instead try to perceive the idea of Spaces of Mind… With all its sensory properties. This has been reverberating in the hallways of thought lately.

And within my Space, there are droplets of reflections upon certain words, soundlessly uttered, that seem so loud they cannot be ignored.

Meandering now to a specific word that has been dancing and wriggling around for awhile. Someone used the word, “nice,” as a virtuous state of being. She stated with pride that the people in a certain region in Australia (where she resides) are “nice” people. Indicating what? Yes, I know, most people would not give something like that a second thought, if at all a first. However… me… I am still pondering… Weeks after the fact… 

What is “nice?” Am I “nice?” I am certainly not “nice.” I do try to be, in social situations, but that is not who or what I really am. Nope. When I am operating in Me-ness, I am certainly not at all “nice.” To be honest, it is not something I aspire to be at all. I understand and accept that “nice” may be the Golden Standard for many, but it is not for me. I make effort towards “nice”-ness only because I wish to avoid unpleasant social confrontations that may impact negatively upon my movement along my own intransigent path – an exercise of walking around the mountain to get to the other side, because it is harder and often impossible to tunnel straight through, and yes, I want to get to the other side, without being waylaid for longer than I have to be.

Exploring new paradigms and existing in parallel embodiments, shifting from one dimensionality to another, challenging traditional notions, rattling the confines of mental frames, moving in and out of interstices – these are activities that will cause offense. They are not “nice” pursuits.

People adhere and then fall away. Shifting sands. Dynamic morphologies. Divergent trajectories.

In the midst of the maelstrom… There is one being. Lucy. A canine. Not human.

Lucy has provided a central stability inside the whirlwind of continuous transmutation – a sensory realm where relational import lies not in emotional connection as us humans dictate, but in a deeper symbiosis of Beingness.

Love and emotionality? Well… I do call her my “baby girl” but in truth, I have no need to anthropomorphise Lucy. In fact, it is important to me that she is not human. I could not share this realm with a human. I do not need to perceive her bond with me as the kind of “love” that humans declare for each other. Yes, I have emotions and I feel emotional “love” in human terms for Lucy. But I am also aware that our connection is beyond my own limited human projections, I am ever mindful that her frames of references may be different from my own. Our empathy is imperfect, it is something we both work on every moment of our togetherness, but that is fine with me too. I am not insulted by imperfection, I merely seek to find new ways of seeing, hearing, feeling, thinking, touching, smelling, and experiencing. There is no hard and fast “right” or “wrong” way to perceive. I do not insist that others adopt my ways – after all, my ways are in a constant state of flux, ever renewing, like a continuous musical development without cadence, ending abruptly only when I am no more. It is fine if the majority of animal lovers wish to humanise their pets. Life is too short to insist on one way. But life is also too short to try to please everyone all the time either.  I only draw the lines at dishonesty, subterfuge, manipulation and of course physical harm

Which brings me back to the musing on ‘nice”-ness. For me, and that is of my choosing: no more striving to be “nice” at the expense of being true to Self, a dynamic Self, not static. .

This journey is a choice as much as it is inexorable. Oxymoronic, but yes. I make no apologies for that in itself. Controversial. Provoking. Confronting. Some may find my approaches unpleasant, jarring or offensive at some point or other of my non-magical oxymoronic continuous transmogrificationing. Others may say I am a genius. Yet others will mostly ignore my coming and going and never know I have existed. And that is all well with my soul.

Not “nice”. No.

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