Tuesday, November 16, 2004
A Glimpse Inside
In case it isn’t really clear by now, we experience two separate but concurrent realities most of the time. There’s the world you live in, the one we call ‘outside.’ Then there’s ‘inside’ which is where we live. We experience inside and outside life simultaneously as forever and irrevocably separate worlds.
Imagine looking in a mirror but the mirror world is as complete as the one where you’re brushing your teeth. It isn’t just a reflection. Things happen there independently. You can always see inside this alternate reality and know it intimately. It has sunlight, forest, rivers, mountains, houses, animals, flowers, whatever you want, like instant virtual reality. If you walk to the horizon it expands before forever, every step takes you toward something familiar or new.
The only people who live here are Qs. There is no crime, but there is darkness. Sometimes I wonder why we even bother with outside. Inside is paradise where anything is available just by thinking of it. We can be alone or do things together. Sometimes Qs conflict as to what time of day it is, or the weather or the time of year, but all things are negotiable. Or we can always go off by ourselves to have it our own way.
Why we bother with outside reality is complex. Although inside can be addictive it’s also sort of muted. Tactile sensations are a little off. Beach sand isn’t as hot. Chocolate isn’t as chocolaty. But the real drawback is that Eyvonne isn’t inside, nor are our kids and friends. We just can’t manufacture the excitement of interacting with people in the real world. However if we’re ever in a coma don’t be in too much of a hurry to pull the plug. We might be perfectly content surfboarding inside.
If you’re wondering why we call ourselves “Q’s” watch Star Trek. There’s a character who is both autonomous and yet part of an intelligent continuum called The Q. Friends of ours noted we have a number of traits in common with Q. Unfortunately one of those traits in common is not omnipotence. We are not a deity, even a minor one. Oprah are you listening?
Since our friends had trouble discerning which of us was up at any given time it was easier to call us all Q. It stuck. When there was only the original four of us in the system (before our Q nickname was bestowed on us) we didn’t know any others lived outside our circle of light.
We did have some rather strange ‘imaginary friends’ according to our siblings. I remember distinctly playing with ‘rion in the chicken coop where we hid frequently at very young whiling away long hours until school was out and our big sister returned home.
Over the past decade many like ‘rion, Ian and Jamie Lee have come in from hiding. Some of these ‘newbies’ burst into Q consciousness with little or no warning, wild-eyed, angry, frightened, disoriented, shaking our system to the core. Others whispered hints and scattered esoteric clues for the rest of us to puzzle out. Some were hesitant to claim their rightful places in our system. Others gave ominous warnings of their impending emergence. A few were rescued from places where something had swallowed all the light.
I suspect some still hide beyond the fringe of our inner reality. Losing a whole day recently is a pretty big clue. A few years ago I would have freaked out. Now I know there’s no sense wasting energy worrying. Most of what I worry about never happens anyway.
Much of the time at least a bit of our attention is focused on what’s happening inside even when we have ops. Each of us looks different inside. Each of us has a sense of self, of completeness. Any one of us can have ops for a variety of reasons. We usually take control with the knowledge or consent of the rest of our system, but sometimes it doesn’t work that way.
Each Q lives a full and independent existence inside parallel to our life outside. We can and do sleep, read, swim, hike, play, paint or otherwise amuse ourselves inside. Most of the time what Qs do inside doesn’t affect the one with ops. In order to contact each other or share information we use a technique we call ‘mindtouch’. If you understand telepathy you understand mindtouch. Sometimes we use the same technique outside the system. Eyvonne and I play a game where she thinks of a random word to substitute for the word “screen” in the useless information flashed a TV screen every time you watch a rented movie. You know, it says, “This movie has been formatted to fit your TV screen.” So she thinks of a random word instead of ‘screen’. In nine years of watching movies together Qs guessed wrong three times.
We use it unconsciously outside with varying consequences. Yesterday I met a fellow for the first time. He asked what there was to do around here, a common question from city folk pondering moving to a county with one traffic light.
“If you want to get over being scared of reading your poetry in front of an audience, there’s a poetry open mike once a month,” I said.
He looked really confused, wondering how I even knew he wrote poetry. It made me sweat. I don’t mean to get inside people’s heads; sometimes it just happens, like the northern lights. But at least there’s a body of evidence explaining how that works.
We use the mindtouch to share ops. Any number of us can share ops and thus have immediate live feed access to what we’re doing in the outside world. Even though this is possible, therapists call it “co-conciousness", only one alter should have control of the body at any given time. We proved that when we first experimented with sharing ops. We fell flat on our face if one alter decided to walk in one direction and another decided to go the opposite way. It wasn’t pretty. It also gave us an idea that driving with that kind of shared ops is dangerous. So it’s a hard and fast rule: Only the Q with ops decides what we do and where we go. It’s fine when we’re all agreeable and cozy. But when there is dissention it can be hell.
Outside we are still very invested in camouflage and keeping a low profile. Some of us are better at it than others. Anyone can peg Ian's brogue or ‘rion who speaks with a southern accent. They rarely take ops unless they’re at home. Some of us spend a lot more time outside than others due to the idiotic need to make money. Time outside can get to be an issue in and of itself. Even the l’ilones want to spend time with Eyvonne, watch a kid movie or eat ice cream.
When she hasn’t seen someone in a while Eyvonne asks casually, “What’s Ian doing?” or “What’s Gwen up to?” Most of the time she’s just checking in to see how we are. But sometimes we know she’s scared someone has integrated without saying goodbye. Even though we try not to do that sometimes there are special circumstances like when Keeper got so unstable I needed to make it happen NOW so things didn’t fall apart.
Just as we need to adjust when our inner population shifts, so does Eyvonne. Imagine a child you’ve grown to know and love suddenly disappears, absorbed by someone else. You can catch glimpses of them in that person, but it’s not the same. I know Eyvonne privately mourns each integration while at the same time she accepts whatever we need to do to stay healthy. Living with a multiple is like existing in a kaleidoscope. Your life can change in a blink. She shares our triumphs, sadness and joys. Looking back over the decade we’ve been together it’s been chaotic but it’s also been the happiest ten years either of us ever imagined.
As we fall asleep Eyvonne likes to ask where each of us is, what we’re doing. Frequently as the one with ops nods off those still awake take ops for a moment. L’ilones like to cuddle up to Eyvonne before they fall asleep.
Eyvonne is familiar with our inner world. She loves to hear us describe it and what we’re doing. She knows ‘rion has a cabin in the woods on a lake. He and Ian like to sit on the dock and fish. Inside Ian smokes a lot. None of us smoke outside, we’re allergic to tobacco.
I live in a tipi. Quit laughing. I know it’s stereotypical. But I like the way it looks when I look up, like it’s a wheel curving up to become the whole world. I paint a lot including the sides of the tipi. el reads a lot. He lives in a house now, but for most of our lives it was just a library. It has a gazillion books, and even a kind of gallery with a railing. There’s a beat up leather couch where he sleeps, usually with his glasses askew and a book fallen on his chest.
el’s house is right next to Lillie’s cottage. It has flower and herb gardens all around it. It kinda looks like a hobbit house, all warm and cozy. She reads and quilts and bakes a lot. Her place is a gathering spot for our l’ilones. Lillie loves being a mom. She adores kids, a trait she shares with Gwen. Gwen has her own house but she alternates most of her time between ‘rion’s and Lillie’s. She’s nearly always keeping a watchful eye on our current batch of l’ilones.
Ian sleeps on the ground. He has a little cottage too, even more hobbit like than Lillie’s because it’s thatched. But he says he misses sleeping in the roots of the great tree where all the babies once slumbered. The tree is still there, but it’s not his home anymore. He and Jamie Lee integrated a few years ago. He inherited her gracefulness and sharp wit. He’s a little easier to understand too.
Inside is idyllic most of the time, but not always. It’s also the battleground where we fight the demons of our past.
© 2004 M. S. Eliot
Imagine looking in a mirror but the mirror world is as complete as the one where you’re brushing your teeth. It isn’t just a reflection. Things happen there independently. You can always see inside this alternate reality and know it intimately. It has sunlight, forest, rivers, mountains, houses, animals, flowers, whatever you want, like instant virtual reality. If you walk to the horizon it expands before forever, every step takes you toward something familiar or new.
The only people who live here are Qs. There is no crime, but there is darkness. Sometimes I wonder why we even bother with outside. Inside is paradise where anything is available just by thinking of it. We can be alone or do things together. Sometimes Qs conflict as to what time of day it is, or the weather or the time of year, but all things are negotiable. Or we can always go off by ourselves to have it our own way.
Why we bother with outside reality is complex. Although inside can be addictive it’s also sort of muted. Tactile sensations are a little off. Beach sand isn’t as hot. Chocolate isn’t as chocolaty. But the real drawback is that Eyvonne isn’t inside, nor are our kids and friends. We just can’t manufacture the excitement of interacting with people in the real world. However if we’re ever in a coma don’t be in too much of a hurry to pull the plug. We might be perfectly content surfboarding inside.
If you’re wondering why we call ourselves “Q’s” watch Star Trek. There’s a character who is both autonomous and yet part of an intelligent continuum called The Q. Friends of ours noted we have a number of traits in common with Q. Unfortunately one of those traits in common is not omnipotence. We are not a deity, even a minor one. Oprah are you listening?
Since our friends had trouble discerning which of us was up at any given time it was easier to call us all Q. It stuck. When there was only the original four of us in the system (before our Q nickname was bestowed on us) we didn’t know any others lived outside our circle of light.
We did have some rather strange ‘imaginary friends’ according to our siblings. I remember distinctly playing with ‘rion in the chicken coop where we hid frequently at very young whiling away long hours until school was out and our big sister returned home.
Over the past decade many like ‘rion, Ian and Jamie Lee have come in from hiding. Some of these ‘newbies’ burst into Q consciousness with little or no warning, wild-eyed, angry, frightened, disoriented, shaking our system to the core. Others whispered hints and scattered esoteric clues for the rest of us to puzzle out. Some were hesitant to claim their rightful places in our system. Others gave ominous warnings of their impending emergence. A few were rescued from places where something had swallowed all the light.
I suspect some still hide beyond the fringe of our inner reality. Losing a whole day recently is a pretty big clue. A few years ago I would have freaked out. Now I know there’s no sense wasting energy worrying. Most of what I worry about never happens anyway.
Much of the time at least a bit of our attention is focused on what’s happening inside even when we have ops. Each of us looks different inside. Each of us has a sense of self, of completeness. Any one of us can have ops for a variety of reasons. We usually take control with the knowledge or consent of the rest of our system, but sometimes it doesn’t work that way.
Each Q lives a full and independent existence inside parallel to our life outside. We can and do sleep, read, swim, hike, play, paint or otherwise amuse ourselves inside. Most of the time what Qs do inside doesn’t affect the one with ops. In order to contact each other or share information we use a technique we call ‘mindtouch’. If you understand telepathy you understand mindtouch. Sometimes we use the same technique outside the system. Eyvonne and I play a game where she thinks of a random word to substitute for the word “screen” in the useless information flashed a TV screen every time you watch a rented movie. You know, it says, “This movie has been formatted to fit your TV screen.” So she thinks of a random word instead of ‘screen’. In nine years of watching movies together Qs guessed wrong three times.
We use it unconsciously outside with varying consequences. Yesterday I met a fellow for the first time. He asked what there was to do around here, a common question from city folk pondering moving to a county with one traffic light.
“If you want to get over being scared of reading your poetry in front of an audience, there’s a poetry open mike once a month,” I said.
He looked really confused, wondering how I even knew he wrote poetry. It made me sweat. I don’t mean to get inside people’s heads; sometimes it just happens, like the northern lights. But at least there’s a body of evidence explaining how that works.
We use the mindtouch to share ops. Any number of us can share ops and thus have immediate live feed access to what we’re doing in the outside world. Even though this is possible, therapists call it “co-conciousness", only one alter should have control of the body at any given time. We proved that when we first experimented with sharing ops. We fell flat on our face if one alter decided to walk in one direction and another decided to go the opposite way. It wasn’t pretty. It also gave us an idea that driving with that kind of shared ops is dangerous. So it’s a hard and fast rule: Only the Q with ops decides what we do and where we go. It’s fine when we’re all agreeable and cozy. But when there is dissention it can be hell.
Outside we are still very invested in camouflage and keeping a low profile. Some of us are better at it than others. Anyone can peg Ian's brogue or ‘rion who speaks with a southern accent. They rarely take ops unless they’re at home. Some of us spend a lot more time outside than others due to the idiotic need to make money. Time outside can get to be an issue in and of itself. Even the l’ilones want to spend time with Eyvonne, watch a kid movie or eat ice cream.
When she hasn’t seen someone in a while Eyvonne asks casually, “What’s Ian doing?” or “What’s Gwen up to?” Most of the time she’s just checking in to see how we are. But sometimes we know she’s scared someone has integrated without saying goodbye. Even though we try not to do that sometimes there are special circumstances like when Keeper got so unstable I needed to make it happen NOW so things didn’t fall apart.
Just as we need to adjust when our inner population shifts, so does Eyvonne. Imagine a child you’ve grown to know and love suddenly disappears, absorbed by someone else. You can catch glimpses of them in that person, but it’s not the same. I know Eyvonne privately mourns each integration while at the same time she accepts whatever we need to do to stay healthy. Living with a multiple is like existing in a kaleidoscope. Your life can change in a blink. She shares our triumphs, sadness and joys. Looking back over the decade we’ve been together it’s been chaotic but it’s also been the happiest ten years either of us ever imagined.
As we fall asleep Eyvonne likes to ask where each of us is, what we’re doing. Frequently as the one with ops nods off those still awake take ops for a moment. L’ilones like to cuddle up to Eyvonne before they fall asleep.
Eyvonne is familiar with our inner world. She loves to hear us describe it and what we’re doing. She knows ‘rion has a cabin in the woods on a lake. He and Ian like to sit on the dock and fish. Inside Ian smokes a lot. None of us smoke outside, we’re allergic to tobacco.
I live in a tipi. Quit laughing. I know it’s stereotypical. But I like the way it looks when I look up, like it’s a wheel curving up to become the whole world. I paint a lot including the sides of the tipi. el reads a lot. He lives in a house now, but for most of our lives it was just a library. It has a gazillion books, and even a kind of gallery with a railing. There’s a beat up leather couch where he sleeps, usually with his glasses askew and a book fallen on his chest.
el’s house is right next to Lillie’s cottage. It has flower and herb gardens all around it. It kinda looks like a hobbit house, all warm and cozy. She reads and quilts and bakes a lot. Her place is a gathering spot for our l’ilones. Lillie loves being a mom. She adores kids, a trait she shares with Gwen. Gwen has her own house but she alternates most of her time between ‘rion’s and Lillie’s. She’s nearly always keeping a watchful eye on our current batch of l’ilones.
Ian sleeps on the ground. He has a little cottage too, even more hobbit like than Lillie’s because it’s thatched. But he says he misses sleeping in the roots of the great tree where all the babies once slumbered. The tree is still there, but it’s not his home anymore. He and Jamie Lee integrated a few years ago. He inherited her gracefulness and sharp wit. He’s a little easier to understand too.
Inside is idyllic most of the time, but not always. It’s also the battleground where we fight the demons of our past.
© 2004 M. S. Eliot
