Repeat: This blog is not I (though sometimes about me)
           This blog is a reflection,
           A narcissistic upwelling
           And not my identity.

           If I am the microcosm
           And the cosmos the macrocosm,
           This blog can serve to span the chasm
           Of all that constitutes my self
           Or selflessness
           Enswirled by the reality (and un-)
           Of the infinitely intervening phantasms.

 times 10.  Then take two pills (one to make you big, the other small), and call me something else in the morning.

By the way, Narcissus as a mythic character is very much misunderstood.  Today we refer to ‘narcissism’ to describe a psychological condition characterized by self-preoccupation and lack of empathy.  Basically, someone 'full' of his or herself.  And, indeed, the ‘common account’ of the myth of Narcissus describes a youth so preoccupied with the beauty of his own reflection in a pool that his worshipful female admirer (would-be girlfriend) Echo, fades, in her unremitted love, to the precipe of nothingness.  (She was, however, mercifully immortalized by the gods to live on forever in the mountains as—an echo—what else?!)  And in punishment for his own self-infatuation, Narcissus eventually falls into the pool and drowns.

But the true myth of Narcissus depicts a youth who falls in love with the face he encounters while peering into a pool—an image that he is not aware is either an image or himself.  In other words, he believes he is looking out into a strange magical world and seeing and loving ‘another’, though we, as omniscient observers, are aware that it is only his own reflection.   When, however, he realizes that the person of his fascination and fixation all along was himself, in horror he submits to the water’s seduction and slips away from life as the only honorable course available.  He was a lover, a true lover, though totally deluded, who found subsequent new enlightenment in a liquidy submersion.  And like many in myths who find demise going underground or underwater or into the underworld, he re-emerges reborn as fresh as a—flower!  Such is the power if pursuing one’s true fate.

So my advice, if you find that blogging is becoming larger than life, is: find (or write) a mantra like mine above and spin it on your prayer wheel 10 x 10 x 10 googolplex times.  Or go take a leap into your psychic pool…and to the asphyxia submit.