An Impractical Dreamer

In the winter of his eighteenth year this young man fell madly in love (well, it was a serious crush anyway). The object of his unrequited affection was a demure sweet young lady who turned the young man, usually easygoing and affable, into a tongue-tied moron (or so he thought and was in fact true).

The episode was simply reflective of the young man’s nature. He conjured imaginings of romantic scenarios; of heroic stances he might take. He lived in a world of fictional narratives reinforced by the heroic storylines he regularly indulged: good triumphs, tragedy is overcome.

It would seem in retrospect such an imaginative reality would soon be repressed but it was maintained far longer than it might have been by avoiding unpleasant confrontation, keeping a distance from uncertain challenges and living in an (overly) protective home environment. As a college student our young dreamer immersed himself in studies of an impersonal nature, solitary endeavors not requiring excessive personal connections. He had friends of course. College life teems with unassuming young people of an accepting nature, all thriving in an essentially responsibility free environment.

Eventually, over time, even an impractical dreamer will have to face harsh realities. The awakening for our young man came with the threat posed by the draft lottery and the likelihood of involuntary military service. Basic training was eye opening. The young man found himself verbally assaulted. Name calling the likes of which he had never previously encountered (but guessed often referred to perverse sexual acts) was common.

Military service didn’t cure the young man, didn’t redirect him toward a more functional pragmatism. Even now as he passes middle age the man finds himself entertaining flights of fancy. He has somehow been able to navigate through life being sufficiently useful as not to be a particular burden on society, you know, has basically paid his own way.

It’s good to know, I guess, that sometimes life provides a path for those who need to live in an alternative reality.

Mosquito as Collective

A recent camping trip has me reconsidering the nature of Mosquito. It’s natural, I suppose, to see the insects as existing in swarms of creatures genetically engineered to pursue the blood needed to reproduce. But I have become inclined to now see the insect not as individuals but as a single organism working to attack and acquire the essence of their Being.

A Supreme Mosquito directs through a common mind, drones to the front lines to distract the blood source while the more capable move in from behind to withdraw the coveted substance.

It seems pretty clear to me that Mosquito thrives as a collective intelligence.

Children

I’ve been thinking lately about what it means to produce children, why one would choose, in the first place, to assume the responsibility for creating one. I guess the animal instinct to procreate is a compelling motive (more so for some than others) and a need for the imagined stability of family must be a strong driver.

Once the child begins to grow, responsible parents will do what they can to instill moral and spiritual values as they understand them; will do their best to shelter their progeny from negative peer influences and impose rules they feel will lead to responsible behavior. The child, however, subject to myriad peer influences will respond as any fit animal would weighing options and quickly learning where maximal benefit lies. The parents will soon find themselves on the sidelines, no longer raising and directing, but watching and hoping for the best.

As the child develops into an independent entity, parents will see in it little resemblance to the being they imagined they birthed.

Mortality

Having recently experienced deaths of a number of people close to me, I can’t help thinking about mortality and what may come next. Humankind has, of course conceived existence of some sort after death for as long as self-consciousness has been realized, and although the physical presence of those deceased will no longer be with us, they do live on in our memories even as we realize an emptiness in their absence.

Whether wishful thinking or a transcendental awareness, after life existence will never disappear as a concept, as widespread religious practice, dependent on such belief, affirms. Even the non-religious must harbor the notion of some sort of post-biological consciousness.

In any case, a healthy perspective will depend on reveling in the wonder of a fleeting daily existence.


The advantages of Remaining Mum

It occurs to me with increasing frequency, lately, that remaining silent in social situations, exchanges with family members, may be preferable to entering into conversations that may gravitate toward controversy or discussions that may be getting too personal. By remaining mum, I expect I will be able to avoid offering comments that will offend, comments that may dog me, remain a source of discomfort for a long time.

Though one might argue, I suppose, that keeping my thoughts to myself might be considered by those one is hoping not to offend as disguising my true feelings, might suspect my silence masks negative thoughts, which, I guess, may indeed be the case.

Maybe the answer is, in the interests of peaceful co-existence, to always just smile and nod.

Exasperation

Following the public discourse online these days amounts to consumption of sensationalized soundbites that are anything but enlightening. I find it upsetting focusing, as the various media does, on the extremes whether it be weather, politics or divisive personalities.

The negative vibes have caused me to reduce my nightly news viewing to three days a week, still painful but I guess necessary in order to maintain a sense of current events even as they ominously portend a world on the brink of collapse.

Just thinking about it exacerbates my exasperation. I guess I should be thankful my world is still a place I can vent.

Mood Swings

I’m finding myself on an emotional roller-coaster lately, experiencing fluctuations in perspective I’m finding difficult to explain. I have experienced no traumatic events recently that can account for my mood swings, so it doesn’t seem reasonable I should be soaring on the rarified air of well-being one minute and descending to the depths of despair the next.

As one might imagine I’m enjoying the highs and dreading the lows, but since I realize fluctuations will occur; what goes up must come down, I should, I suppose, be content to ride along. As I contemplate it all, searching for a rationale, I think I can realistically attribute the phenomenon to aging.

How to Abide the Title of Pseudo-Intellectual

It occurs to me that as one contemplates, reaches toward the boundaries of understanding it becomes increasingly likely such an individual will find himself within the undesirable realm of the pseudo-intellectual.

As honest and unassuming as his intellectual pursuits might be, selflessly reaching toward understanding, negative responses to his ruminations has to cause him to wonder if perhaps he’s offering thoughts in a convoluted style, about ideas that are trivial or, even worse, common knowledge.

Still, one should not be deterred from his intellectual pursuit if motives are pure and not simply intended to boost self-esteem.

What can be Known but not Spoken Of

I understand that neuro-scientists are going to great efforts these days to make sense of what exactly constitutes consciousness. A lot of their efforts are about correlating conscious experiences, like the world view before us or our sense of time extension, with specific brain activity, what synapses fire when and where in the brain where it’s all happening.

No easy task, I guess, but one particular difficulty these researchers are having is how to deal with extreme subtleties of consciousness, those experiences that defy verbal representation, like the aesthetic response one might have when hearing a particular musical refrain or the ineffable responses to the smell of flowers on a spring day. To make matters even more difficult the same sounds or the same odor may not elicit the same conscious response experienced a second time.

It seems to me reducing conscious experience to specific brain activity isn’t necessarily a desirable enterprise anyway. Perhaps allowing the ineffable to remain ineffable is a breath of fresh air.

Robert and Judy

Robert and Judy have lived together in their small home in the country for a long time. Before they were married Robert lived alone in a small cabin. When Judy came to visit, she found that Robert harbored a weasel in the house. The animal was allowed free rein to come and go at will. According to Robert his unnamed companion kept the rodent population in check. After their marriage, Judy, finding the animal to be an unacceptable house guest saw to it a new house was built with a solid foundation.

Over the years, as will be the case for semi-isolated folks, idiosyncrasies have developed. Visitors are viewed a bit askance, long visits not encouraged and, as Judy might have expected, Robert has continued to harbor his excessive (in her opinion) attachment to the deer, wild turkeys, wood chucks and various other wild creatures that come around to be fed, which Robert continues to do with unerring regularity in order to keep them all nearby, while keeping them, in the interest of conjugal peace, out of the house.

As Robert’s health has begun to deteriorate, Judy, a registered nurse, diagnoses, treats and sees to it Robert gets needed medical attention while documenting his various skin maladies with color photos that she readily shares with whomever might be visiting. Clarence, reduced to physical specimen, shrugs off the attention, content to nap in his recliner until it’s time once again to feed his friends.