Mindworms

Mindworms are earworms of the mind.  Suddenly, out of nowhere, a mindworm appears: a vague memory that needs certainty; a blurry thought that needs elaboration; a eureka to be jotted down…  These are antsy little creatures whose needs have to be attended to immediately; otherwise they will not give you a moment of peace.  Feed them what they need, and then (swoosh) begone the mindworm!  Unlike obsessions, mindworms are not sticky.  Obsession are a hefty creatures.  They have immense difficulties in movement.  They cling onto you.  They want to make your mind their plantation and rule it as a master, an earl (shuu Downton Abbey!).  Their desire is to colonize by territorializing themselves wherever they spot a void.  But a mindworm has no such desire to be bound anywhere — let alone on the gray matter (eeuwk said the mindworm).  It is a creature that seeks freedom.  Eager to jump.  (Take a leap of faith.)  When it appears, it wants to take its leave as soon as possible.  That is why it is nagging to be fed, so that it would have enough energy to take off.  Where obsessions slither slowly and circularly, a mindworm’s path is intuitively and genetically linear.  It knows from where to leave the mind.  It has a nose for the clean air, and an eye for the light at the end of the tunnel.  (Well, thinking that mindworms also reside in the mind, and the only way of refuge is through the ear tunnel, then this is neither a bad metaphor, nor a cliche, even though it gives the impression that it is both).  

Create a passageway for them from the brain through the arm to your hand to the fingers that is holding the pen: let them slide gently on a piece of paper.  They wouldn’t mind if the transport carrying them is lead, ink, or paint.  Neither would be important the color they’d wear.  (Although, I must warn you that most mindworms feel most at home with purple.  Or indigo blue — not any other tone.  Don’t ask why.  Scientists are still working on this most curious phenomenon).  

Let them hold on to the impatient fingers hitting virtual letters on a phone or to the little square bumps on the keyboard.  Although tired from the repetitive bumping, they would still not prefer to be inside the mind.  Out in the open, they are the happiest creatures.