What’s Your Frequency?…
Is one of those questions that has been around for quite awhile. Probably, first used legitimately by radio and TV technicians before it was appropriated by the Timothy Leary and the counterculture of the 60s – Turn on, tune in, drop out. Exactly what we were supposed to be ‘tuning into’ escaped me…I suppose I was operating on a different frequency than Timmy. Your frequency being the number of cycles or waves that you operate on or the measurement of your brain waves. Since that time, it has metamorphosed into music, movies, and now has become a staple in the new age gurus’ arsenal of spiritual awareness. Ohmmmmmmm…
The first time I actually considered that humans have frequencies that were unique, and that all of us march to different beats, and that life itself is asynchronous; I was sitting on the ramp of my helicopter in 1969, reading Moby Dick. I came across these lines by Herman Melville:
“As I sat there at my ease, cross-legged on the deck; after the bitter exertion at the windlass; under a blue tranquil sky; the ship under indolent sail, and gliding so serenely along; as I bathed my hands among those soft, gentle globules of infiltrated tissues, wove almost within the hour; as they richly broke to my fingers, and discharged all their opulence, like fully ripe grapes their wine; as. I snuffed up that uncontaminated aroma,- literally and truly, like the smell of spring violets; I declare to you, that for the time I lived as in a musky meadow; I forgot all about our horrible oath; in that inexpressible sperm, I washed my hands and my heart of it; I almost began to credit the old Paracelsan superstition that sperm is of rare virtue in allaying the heat of anger; while bathing in that bath, I felt divinely free from all ill-will, or petulance, or malice, of any sort whatsoever.
“Squeeze! squeeze! squeeze! all the morning long; I squeezed that sperm till I myself almost melted into it; I squeezed that sperm till a strange sort of insanity came over me; and I found myself unwittingly squeezing my co-laborers’ hands in it, mistaking their hands for the gentle globules. Such an abounding, affectionate, friendly, loving feeling did this avocation beget; that at last I was continually squeezing their hands, and looking up into their eyes sentimentally; as much as to say,- Oh! my dear fellow beings, why should we longer cherish any social acerbities, or know the slightest ill-humor or envy! Come; let us squeeze hands all round; nay, let us all squeeze ourselves into each other; let us squeeze ourselves universally into the very milk and sperm of kindness.”
It does make you wonder what frequency old Herman was operating on back in 1850, or least what he was smoking before he wrote that chapter. Melville did serve on a whaler for a period of time before writing Moby Dick, and maybe there was a chemical in the spermaceti that caused the feeling of bliss that overcame him. Maybe, it was just working yourself to exhaustion that brought on the euphoria. It was a ‘strange sort of insanity’ that came over Melville, the same sort of surreal insanity I attempted to describe in Boot in the sandbag scene. When G.O. and some of the crew are stretched out on sandbags just enjoying the respite, they are all engaged in that moment. For a brief period in time, they share the same frequency, a moment of synchronicity. G.O.’s heart is so full he cannot contain his emotion and he wept…tears of joy.
Until Next Time,
I Remain,
Just another Zororastafarian Crew Chief trying to find the right frequency for time travel…
