how long do you mean to be content?

i have been full of ideas lately. juicy and energizing and inspiring. ideas which lift and stretch and toil and jump and submit.
and and and.

a few weeks ago, deel and i entertained the only haunting question: how long do you mean to be content? doppelgangers!

arabic themes suggest that encountering one is insouciant at best. you are to say "she is one of 40!" a nonoccurrence. unindicative of any omen and not more a feat than pomegranates in a rural summer souk. no more interesting than puffed dry lips after a saliferous pumpkin seed feast. in fact, the implication is that the only possibly peculiar affair is one where you encounter numerous doppelgangers. at once! otherwise, don't speak. you are, after all, noticing something expected and planned. ordained even.

everyone else disagrees. the ancient greeks. the anglo-saxons. the mayans. even the hindus, who are known to rebel in such instances.

for what it's worth, the inquiry, however it made me shudder, at the same time activated my right brain. which then, after a momentary consultation with its connections on the other side, decided: i intend to be content so long as i am here. and my essence for 40 days thereafter. and i am not brave. but i know that the key here is 40. 40 days. 40 nights. 40; sacrosanct and strong. how could any evil twin outsmart god's extension, the number 40!