Here in the wilds the breeze is moving through the trees rippling the water, providing a soft music, an accompaniment to the sensual feel of the wind.
We experience individually, our interpretation is our own, it is a personal failure to reduce what is before us to a simple explanation of natural law.
I’ve been thinking lately about our social natures, how compelling it is to share and have others appreciate what we think and do, producing, as we do, memes, an endless parade of memes on social media in the hopes of receiving attention.
Our interest must be to attract an audience, to perform before (thousands?) more than just our immediate acquaintances in order to solidify acceptance within the cultural realm.
I guess if one limits time to such endeavors it can’t hurt to boost self-confidence, assuming, of course, sufficient ‘likes’ appear.
I’ve been thinking lately about my daily consumption of the news. Anticipating, as I do, the discomfiting nature of what I’m likely to hear I rely on the feeds I get through my phone each morning. I’m realizing my perspective on things is being tainted by the sensational nature of these media soundbites.
As troubling as I find this realization, I will continue my sound bite consumption because I know I will find a more intensive investigation of current events to be more painful than worthwhile.
Something about autumn, nature’s impending hibernation, that has me thinking about ‘the long sleep’, contemplating my ultimate demise. I heard recently about a man who, before his recent death, directed his family to have his cremated remains scattered about a favorite hiking location while a song of personal significance was piped into the woodlands.
It seems to me a nice idea. It has me thinking about what musical work I might choose for such an occasion. I do have in mind a perfect location for such an event.
All fun to think about but I’m not in the planning stages yet.
I’ve been thinking about the idea of a post-apocalyptic dark age: the economy has collapsed, goods of any sort are scarce, hostile elements, equally desperate, seek to exploit the Other, survival depends on courage and wits.
It’s the time of year, I guess, that seems to elicit premonitions of immanent disaster. What else can explain Halloween and the Day of the Dead? Add to these events the anxieties of the upcoming election and one can’t help but anticipate ominous times ahead.
Psychically numbing as the times maybe we rationalize it will end, equilibrium will reappear. The anxieties, though, will not go quietly.
The richness of recognized beauty defies simplistic explanation. No ‘eye of the beholder’ or theory of color and form is sufficient to address beauty’s underlying truth.
What other subjective truths are there? Are our intuitive beliefs a reaction to fear of the Other? What can harm us if we stay in touch with the Truth the natural world provides?
I’m wondering if species, creatures with life spans much shorter than ours, tiny beings with brains the size of pin heads, realize, given their brief existence, a rich and meaningful life.
Does a Wooly Bear caterpillar, struggling in moving water, feel angst, realize the probability of imminent demise while memories of hatching, eating and growing, the promise of evolution to flight slowly fades, the hope it’s brothers will survive to replenish the species and sensing these complexities while living a life that is only an instant of the life cycle we manage to waste away in insignificant concerns.
Such thoughts make me think I should pay more attention.
With the enhanced auditory abilities I’ve recently acquired (as a result of the acquisition of hearing aids) I notice what I can only describe as an otherworldly hum (not to be confused with tinnitus, which I also experience) which, if I might be metaphorical, I must interpret as the universe breathing, a wondrous sound Pythagoras might have been referring to (if he hadn’t been being metaphorical) as the music of the spheres.
I can imagine this auditory phenomenon as being primordial, originating with the Big Bang. How wonderful that modern technology has put me in touch, allowed me to realize, my connection to the universe.
I’ve been thinking lately about legacy, how one might expect to be remembered by those who knew him. It would seem most of us would like to be remembered, preferably positively, as a contributing member of his community even as he may have recoiled from participation, leadership rolls, maybe, in civic and religious organizations, being content maintaining a small coterie of friends as social norms require.
Having lived, as I have, in near obscurity, social anonymity for a long time I might expect little remembrance when I pass on, I suppose. But there’s still time. I do have a class reunion coming up. I wonder if my mates will remember me. To paraphrase Woody Allen: all one needs to do to be remembered is to show up.
I find myself experiencing a fresh perspective, an awareness lately brought on by changes to my senses. As my capacity to hear and see decrease in function my general awareness is heightened. It’s as if the world of my existence is significantly changing one day to the next, as if I can sense the location of the earth changing as it moves through the rarified space it has never before occupied.
A new world one day to the next. How refreshing to realize the insignificance of the issues that had previously occupied so much of my attention. This new awareness has my looking forward to tomorrow morning with wonder. What will happen next?
deideismusings 