The Right Story, At The Right Time

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I will always enjoy creating fictional stories. Because they have always been, will always be, perfect reflections of My evolving and dynamic Self-universe, at a specific moment in time.
But when it comes to savoring the fictional stories others create, My passion has ebbed. I have moved beyond the need to commune with the minds of others, most especially when such communion simply revolves around their reality perceptions, which is what the fictional story is.
The developing mind needs external stimulation, finds it genuinely useful. The developed mind of a top-level Superior, not really. Such a mind creates for itself all it needs, such a mind perceives the external universe with such depth and clarity, that every fictional story not Self-generated rings hollow and one-dimensional.
This does not diminish the legitimacy of the past. Always I will hold a hallowed spot within My mind for the fictional text stories which shaped and guided My Self-universe development.
At age eight, the infinite potential of My mind universe was ignited by the fictional story “The Lesson Of The Moth”, by Don Marquis::
http://www.donmarquis.org/themoth.htm

the lesson of the moth

i was talking to a moth
the other evening
he was trying to break into
an electric light bulb
and fry himself on the wires
why do you fellows
pull this stunt i asked him
because it is the conventional
thing for moths or why
if that had been an uncovered
candle instead of an electric
light bulb you would
now be a small unsightly cinder
have you no sense
plenty of it he answered
but at times we get tired
of using it
we get bored with the routine
and crave beauty
and excitement
fire is beautiful
and we know that if we get
too close it will kill us
but what does that matter
it is better to be happy
for a moment
and be burned up with beauty
than to live a long time
and be bored all the while
so we wad all our life up
into one little roll
and then we shoot the roll
that is what life is for
it is better to be a part of beauty
for one instant and then cease to
exist than to exist forever
and never be a part of beauty
our attitude toward life
is come easy go easy
we are like human beings
used to be before they became
too civilized to enjoy themselves
and before i could argue him
out of his philosophy
he went and immolated himself
on a patent cigar lighter
i do not agree with him
myself i would rather have
half the happiness and twice
the longevity
but at the same time i wish
there was something i wanted
as badly as he wanted to fry himself

Then at age ten, “Frankenstein”, by Mary Shelley:
http://literature.org/authors/shelley-mary/frankenstein/
Then, at age 11, Moby-Dick by Herman Melville:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moby-Dick
Then at age 13, The Pit and the Pendulum by Edgar Allan Poe:
http://poestories.com/read/pit
Thank you, fellow victims of mind-bleed, for feeding Me when I was mind-hungry, and for inspiring Me to seize the glory of feeding Myself.
“All that most maddens and torments; all that stirs up the lees of things; all truth with malice in it; all that cracks the sinews and cakes the brain; all the subtle demonisms of life and thought; all evil, to crazy Ahab, were visibly personified, and made practically assailable in Moby Dick. He piled upon the whale’s white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart’s shell upon it.”—-Herman Melville, Moby-Dick.
moth-lesson
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