Note: Since I'm away this week, I don't have access to any of the tools I would normally use to make my comics. That's okay! I decided to give myself one freebie on the free topic to write something that is straight text instead.
We are all tiny suns. We take in fuel and convert it to energy every day. It doesn't matter what kind of fuel it is: it could be a rice cake, or it could be a chocolate fudge brownie sundae. We eat it, and churn it up, and then turn it into energy!
When I was a little girl, I took the bus to school every morning. I don't know if other places have different kinds of school buses, but our buses were unheated. In the thirty minutes between the time I got on the bus and the time it dropped me off at school in the morning, or home in the afternoon, it sometimes got very cold.
Sweaters, mittens, hats, scarves-- all of these things helped, but they never quite did the trick. My fingertips, the ends of my ears, my toes: all these parts would be numb by the time I got to a place that was warm. That was when I would use my magic powers.
I would close my eyes and think warm. Heat. Fire. Warm. I would will the thought of warmth out from my brain, down to my core, and then let it emanate from my heart and my belly out to my extremities. The warming thoughts would travel, I would imagine, down the river that was my bloodstream, to the ends of my fingers and the tips of my toes and fill them with a golden heat that came from me.
I couldn't rein in the warming thought, and it would travel a little ways outside my fingertips, edging just past the skin that contained the rest of me, and hover there, a half an inch outside my physical boundary, like an invisible coating, like a glow that was too faint to be seen by the human eye.
The warming thought would stay there, just outside my body, until I was inside, somewhere warm, or until I forgot to think it. If I was distracted, interrupted, if someone spoke to me or something happened that jolted me from my meditation on warmth, the warming thought would be cut off, and I would have to start again. Again, I would carefully create the thought, like a golden ball in my mind, and send it sliding down my spine to my physical center, and the let it split and ooze outward to the coldest parts of me.
Heat is pretty much the simplest of the simple. The only thing easier than heat is motion, and that all depends on what kind of chemical reaction is producing it. But for human beings:
1) We move.
2) We can move in such a way as to produce heat.
3) We maintain a constant temperature of about 99 degrees even in the cold, with pretty rare exceptions that tend to be dire circumstances.
So, heat is easy. Even when you're not moving. Even when you're creating magical thoughts in your brain, heat comes naturally to us. But once you have mastered heat, once you can think yourself warm, it's easier to think other things out, out to the ends of your physicaly boundaries, and past yourself, out into the atmosphere, out to other people, even, if you really try.
And there's one thing that isn't as easy as heat, but it's a thing that comes naturally to most human beings. It's much more powerful than heat, and it's something that is unique to a subset of sentient living creatures. It's much more special than anything that can be generated by friction or fire or plain old running around a lot.
Even without warming thoughts, love can make you warm. Love can feel like sun's rays in the rain, and love can make a dark room bright. Love can remind us of how good things can be when things are bad.
I don't know how we generate love, because it's not the same. We don't put in food and get love out. We don't need anything to create it other than our own thoughts, a little spark inside us that sets it off. It's as if we're each a wellspring of enduring love and the only limit to it is how much we believe we are capable of creating.
And I'm not talking about romantic love. Romantic love is worderful, and all, but it's limited. You can't feel romantic love for strangers on the street. Somehow this one kind of love that you only really get to feel and share with a limited number of people in your life has gotten all the attention. It's what we write books about and make movies about and paint pictures of. It's what wars get fought over. So when I say it's overrated, believe me, I'm not saying it's no great shakes. But it doesn't deserve the place of honor over the kind of love we can feel for family members, the kind of love we can feel for friends, the kind of love we can feel for the cashier in the bookstore who remembers what kinds of books we like, or the grocery bagger who notices when we have a new hairstyle.
Romantic love gets acknowledged. We say "I love you," sometimes so much that it becomes a pleasantry more than a declaration. It gets so much attention that people who aren't romantically attached get fed up, feel like they're being marginalized, don't want to see another heart-shaped box of chocolates, and forget that there are people in their lives that they can love, too.
Sometimes, I use my magic powers to send love. I don't think you can do it over the internet, as much as I would like to, because the wires and the non-organic compounds between me and you get in the way, but when you are sitting next to someone, in the same room with someone, you can focus on a thought of love, form it in your head into a blazing ball of light, and the let it seep through your body, out your pores and the ends of your hair, let it escape from your eyes and your ears and the cracks between your fingernails. And let it flow from you to the person beside you, the person in the next room, to your cat or your goldfish or the vegetables in your garden. To the child crying on the bus. To the checkout clerk who looks like she's having a rough day. To everyone and anyone, everything and anything, you can send love.
It's easy to forget how much power we have inside ourselves, how much energy, how much potential. But if you close your eyes and focus, you can hear it humming in your veins, in your nerves, in the little hairs on your arms that stand up when you're filled with something that is greater than the sum of your parts.
Maybe it isn't a magic power. I like to say that it is. But maybe all it is is that when we will ourselves to feel love, it shows in our manners and on our faces, and becomes infectious, and jumps from me to you, from you to the people in your life, from them to the people in their lives, like the world's most joyous fleas, jumping from one person to the next, and next, and next. Whatever it is, it works. And all it takes is one person, with one tiny thought.
This entry was written for therealljidol Free Topic: LJ Idol Free Topic: Radial