Ghost?

Friday, May 2, 2025

Good morning, The Wonderfell Way.

Starshine pre-sunshine, a choir of robins sing in Spring's dark.

O/ Welcome back.

Couldn't get enough?

There's plenty now. The site search-bar is your friend, my friend.

Thank you again for reading.

Though its become a tagline sign off, I do hope in some small way this journal helps you have a wonderful day.

On with our show...

Convention? Creativity? Cool means of conveyance?

This Ghos+ business, I mean.

Why not just Wynn's Morning Journal?

A top of the morning greeting card from a guy named Steven. (People call me Wynn, though. It's more optimistic.)

Why not just that?

A poet's journal in an Internet Age is interesting enough.

It's anonymity; it's identity; it's AI; it's a point to make.

Been almost a year since these post became a daily thing.

If you read them everyday you have an understanding of who I am.

Without images.

In a world set to put image over substance, I flipped the script.

O/

To show you, remind you, the only true way to ever know something is to first understand its relationship to the world through your understanding of the world.

Your understanding of the world comes from your dream of the world.

Nowhere is that more evident than while you read.

The voice in your head as you read my words makes, for you, me.

Not my image, my words define me like yours define you.

We can always change our fashion, always photoshop our face; we can never change who and what we are.

We can only get better, find new ways to express what we are.

AI gives a quick empty supposed agreement of words of record to plainly state a record of what we thought, not what we think, and definitely not what we dream.

What that voice in you brings to AI's answer to your prompt as you read it, is what makes you human.

Is what makes you: You.

That singular dream of yourself you use to define and relate to the world is who you are.

It's what we so awkwardly, because AI can't take a fixed measurement of it, refer to as your soul.

The ever changing story you tell yourself you are, that story you share with the world, that thing some call conscience, is what dreams you, is your piece of this shared dream called life.

You know me through my dreams of Life.

If we were to meet we'd have a deeper relationship than if you only saw a picture of me online.

I fit the optics of a classic New England male poet: tall, in flannel and jeans with my dog.

But pictures pixelated on your screen don't make me: My words do.

Same with you.

What's conveyed with words only I refer to as your ghost. That which, for you, fills every picture you see with meaning.

Seeing me (and you will someday), will be a different experience for you. A truer one.

In this time of quick shock judgements, of fast show me more entertain me I'm bored thoughts, my introduction will be a more honest one.

Our dream of Life matters more than our thumbs up down, swipe left swipe right judgements, because our dreams make those choices possible.

Our perception of the world shared is the only important thing about us.

What we do with the relationships our dreams make is how we make anything at all.

AI is a record of shared dreams in an agreed upon way to interpret them.

Science too, is a shared dream, a record of what our shared observations witness.

Numbers.

Our shared dream of what numbers do, of how they measure, of what a meter, a foot, a liter, a quart is; allows us to make every house and car and spaceship.

Your dream of me is for you, me. And it is all based on the words you choose to define the expression of how I use my own words to show myself.

A judgement from an image of me tells you who I remind you of and not what I actually am: A piece of a larger dream called Life with a cluster of words doing its best to express that piece of that Big Dream called Life and my part in it.

The same as you.

We use what we can't see, our ghosts, to express and understand what we do see.

Your dream of me meets my dream of you reading me as I write each sunrise.

And so you know me better than a years worth of images could ever paint.

Take care, share your dream of the world with the touchable things our shared dreams create, add your own ghost's best understanding of Life to Life, watch Life grow because of it, and make wonderful this shared wonderful dream we call today.

See you see the image that writes these words soon.

O/