"So that's a no," Emma confirmed. "Look, I don't suggest using a psychic semblance of a sandcastle for your actual walls, unless you plan on burying some poor bastard alive in your brain, but it works great for making patches."
Emma's white suit coat vanished, leaving her arms bare, and she dug her hands into the sand. "Look at this way - our brains are the castle. The ambient psionic noise of every day? That's the low tide. And when we do something stupid, that's high tide. So, what do you do? You dig your trenches to divert the water so you can shore up the walls in peace. It's a rather zen method of basic mental maintenance, and can take the place of trying to mediate while actually getting shit accomplished."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2014-12-28 04:28 am (UTC)Emma's white suit coat vanished, leaving her arms bare, and she dug her hands into the sand. "Look at this way - our brains are the castle. The ambient psionic noise of every day? That's the low tide. And when we do something stupid, that's high tide. So, what do you do? You dig your trenches to divert the water so you can shore up the walls in peace. It's a rather zen method of basic mental maintenance, and can take the place of trying to mediate while actually getting shit accomplished."
For the record, Emma was terrible at mediation.