I’ve been lost in thought for a few days because I’ve been reading a lot and putting some things together to try to make sense of a lot of… well, what we consider reality.

Everyone needs a hobby.

It’s matured a bit since ‘Who Are We?” as I’ve pulled and tugged on it.

Not long ago, my psychologist asked me to describe anger in my own words. I puzzled on it and decided to describe a planet with a molten core, and when that core got too hot or when the crust on the surface had weak points, the molten core would pop up through the surface – except you don’t know exactly where that will happen. She pointed out that most people simply described a volcano, and I responded.

“Then they rob themselves of being a planet.”

The point I was trying to make – and maybe I made it, I’m not sure – is that while we describe the feeling of anger as a volcano, a volcano doesn’t exist without a planet. In fact, if you talk to people who know about planets and stuff, they’ll tell you a certain set of circumstances causes volcanoes and not all planets have them, and some might have them more, and some might have them less.

Like us.

My point was also that when angry, I didn’t know where that anger would have impacts on my surface – and how much of an impact. When dealing with your sex of choice, it’s a lot like having a dreaded pimple in the middle of your forehead suddenly appear and distract from the rest of you.

“He was a nice guy, but that pimple made him look like a cyclops!”

You get the points, hopefully. You might get angry at work and, because you can’t vent there, you might vent at home, and that may impact your home relationships even down to the goldfish. It goes the other way as well. And when you can’t vent in either place, it builds until it vents somewhere.

I thought this was a good description of anger.

It’s also a good description of how our worlds interact, these planets rolling around the galaxy – but planets don’t really do that outside of star systems, so it’s more like stars.

Suddenly, we’re not just made of stardust. We are stars ourselves. Figuratively, anyway. Anger becomes flares, flares that can travel across or even burn relationships completely – or both. And before you know it, you’re in this world of stellar flame that affects more than just you and even gets reflected back even after your flare is long gone.

We all don’t burn the same way or the same rate, so it can get really awkward fast. So maybe you dodge out of that area of influence and find yourself elsewhere. You start over, but if you carry the same problem, you create the same problem and the cycle repeats. No matter where you go, there you are.

And that’s just anger. There’s so much in the way of dynamics that fits. Maybe we’re all spherical gears held together by society aggregately impacting each individual like a driving module – but it’s really about the closest people who are also the same spherical gear, but with different ratios – spots where things don’t push against each other the same way. Someone who doesn’t mesh then doesn’t fit in and is either broken by society or causes society to grind to a halt when made of exponentially sterner materials.

Let’s dive deeper.

What if the ‘gearing’ on the surface of each of those spheroids was the topography of our inner skies – how we perceive the world, the topography our limits – those with different experiences again don’t fit in because they don’t mesh.

This has a fun depth to it. It’s making sense so far.