While on some worlds poets are want to muse about “the heavens weeping for the suffering of the living creatures,” if a more complex truth be known, and the cosmos so anthropomorphized, they would more likely be enthralled by the discovery of today’s local ‘conflict and destruction’ being verbal disguises for the joy and vigor of the universal tomorrow.
Over in this one area, there are two brothers in the psychiatric trade, and with a certain similarity in approach; when a patient appears to be running out of interest, money, or patience, the first doctor brother will counsel, “My dear Sir or Madam, my advice to you is that you should ‘clean up your act.'” And under the same circumstance, the other brother is inclined to conclude, “And so, Mr. or Mrs. Patient, my suggestion is that you go and ‘clean up your room.’” (Neither of these two practitioners are particularly well known – much less liked outside of my own imagination.)
Ordinary pictures of ordinary life are a patchwork.
Another traveler I met, (on my many sojourns), told me that his visits to other universes had taught him one thing in particular, which was that none of the gods anywhere seem to like being asked, “When are you having a sale?”
The beige section of one guy’s brain declared, “I am dazzled by my own brilliance.”
And the other area replied, “You got weak eyes.”