On discovering myself without a head
Hi. There. How are you doing?
Me? I am good. I am off work, for a couple of months, off on parental leave, spending all my waking and zombie-d hours taking care of an extremely tiny human. It's an amazing trip, pretty disruptive of everything my conscious memory holds as a pattern. I've got nowhere to run to. Nothing on my agenda. It's just this shit, it's real, I tell you.
Well, but that's not why I am writing this out right now. No Sire, or Madame, or whatever pronoun you identify yourself with, that is not at all the case.
I am sitting here, in my office, at home, which I prefer to call 'the study', it is 12:45 am of this Monday morning. My fingers are compulsively typing this out on my laptop and, and this has been compulsively happening since I have realized that I don't have a head.
I mean, I literally don’t have my head on my shoulders.
It is strikingly similar to how D.E Harding said he felt, in The Mind's I. As I pause typing, and run my hands to try and feel or grab my head, it just passes through. No solid matter on my shoulders, just empty space. Not even a neck. It does feel light. Extremely light. I can't even say light-headed. It is a peculiarly baffling situation. Now sure how it happened though. I woke up like this. What is even stranger that I have always had two heads.
[Two heads, Circa 2013]
I, however, can see, smell, and hear. How? I am not sure, I am equally lost as you are, and unlike you, I don't even have a head.
I am beginning to think that sensory perceptions precede the physical existence of my brain, and even the sense organs. It then makes me wonder, where are these sensory perceptions being processed if I have no head to contain no brain. Ah! What a pickle.
In the dead silence of the night, my wife and infant are tucked away. If they were up I could have asked at least one of them about the head.
I think to myself, there is nothing that I am missing as such, by not having a head, why do we carry it around all the time, everywhere anyway. I mean, first, it is heavy. Second, it has no chill.
It always needs something to see, something to hear, something to smell, often to feed, and always to think. And what's the point of all that chatter that goes on in all the time. A white noise of thoughts which is just so casual and familiar that it acts as the backdrop of our existence. The lack of head, the sensation is of a loud dishwater coming to the end of its cycle after 3 hours of priming your normal with an extremely loud constant noise. You don’t even notice it being there till it is not. Having no head is scary at first, but I am beginning to realize it is a good feeling. Everyone should experience it once, somehow.
I am not sure how much time I have like this. If this is temporary or a permanent arrangement of things now. I don’t mind it though, (how can I, I got no mind) but if this is a permanent situation, I will have to figure out a lot many things. Driving for instance. I am sure any officer would be very curious to find out how a headless man is navigating through traffic. I will be pulled over way too often. And then there is this whole point of whether then my t-shirts should have any hole left for getting a head in, or should they be sealed from the top, more like a cap for my upper body with provisions for my hands. It definitely would make more sense from the Canadian Winter perspective. I will have a lot many things to figure out.
At this point, I am curious to know, if any of you have ever lost your head like this? Or like in anyway, have you ever woken up one day, made yourself a nice cup of coffee, only to realize that you don’t have a head to drink it in with?
Let me know. I will also keep you posted what happens at my end.
~ Headless Hippo