I was standing in a cemetery the other day and saw an irregular shape in a small stream. Imagination immediately began working – is that a turtle? Is that a rock? Is it trash? Is it – I had to walk closer to find the answer.

Rock.

I used to be in that state most of the time, usually wanting to see some kind of wildlife when I was out in a field or driving through the mountains. When imagination isn't active, life feels dry and meaningless. When it's overactive, it feels nuts.

In observing that firing of this primitive imaginary function in relationship to a simple shape, I thought about how far it's taken us. We can now imagine all kinds of things into reality. The human function of imagination has grown far beyond its original jurisdiction of interpreting natural shapes, movements, and features, imagining danger and how to survive in a natural environment.

So imagination, as a function, can go out of whack when it's working beyond its original capacity. I wonder if there's a way to bring it back into its normal bounds, because imagination is what I believe to be the inner King in a feminine psyche (well, mine at least).

It was how I made most of my money while working in entertainment and tech – imagining things that didn't exist yet, and describing them. It hurt to use it primarily in service of others' ideas, and it felt good to reunite with it outside of a commercial context and to see where it wanted to go. I used imagination in service of relationships and sex as a teen and young adult – which I guess I'd now describe as fantasy.

Now, as an adult, I wonder if there's any way out of relationships that feel imaginary. Does anyone prefer actual relationships? A life that's not entirely within the mind?

My late teacher used to say that "fantasy lives in service of the ego, but imagination is something different – it's a two-way conversation with the Self." A courier.