shadows on the periphery (5/17/12) Bowerman & the Men of Oregon Just read the chapter of the 1976 olympix, and what else gwan in the life of B B. I AM VINDICATED: i haven’t told anyone about this, ’til now, … Continue reading
When the incumbent windiness conceals an ardor …
Two things: there should always be something to look forward to. &
There has to be (there has to be) at least one, ideally more, thing(s) one has on hand to inspire.
I have those two, more if I looked more intently. I’m reading a book by thomas pynchon, and one by kenny moore. Reading a bit of each (I alternate) I am elevated. It probably doesn’t show, but what the heck, I am affected, and in a universe of one, ah spoze thet thet iz awl thet maddurz.
And there is something beyond the so-called pale brought in by the wind. This was never so obvious as having experienced the front range chinooks. Notably Boulder, which seemed to bear the brunt of the n+1-ed-ness of the introduxions to the gates of the beyond borne by those raging aerial mixations.
Sigh. I’m on the flip side of the Boulder crunch-of-the-tectonic plates uplift coin, tilting towards the desert, west, but I think I possess the finger-and-thumb grip of the singularity of the thread which I felt then.
It’s the same thang.
And I’m glad. I’ve picked up the path, the infrequent but necessary glimpses (and affirmations) of the notches along the tendril of a trail, and it beckons.
What (be)lows my mind is that quite often I can’t see those horizons. Wallowing in the quagmire, Spiro Agnew’s “morass of mediocrity,” the focus — if there is a focus — is wide, the aperture unable to describe at least the elementary definitions of the beyond. I can’t claim to speak for YOU, but isn’t THAT where we want to be? Journey towards?
Sometimes I merely grasp at and try to grab the symbols. The symbolic may lose its relevance. Cast adrift, in my own primitive and simple way, I re-define.
I pursue new (to me) rituals.
In the meantime, something far more trivial. Status update/change? I have left (unsubscribed, relinquished my participation, my membership in) facebook. When whoever or whatever it is that will, as per the predictions of The Revelations of St. John the Divine, arrives to take off the 144,000 souls to whatever life away from this planet, everyone who is a facebook slave will remain. Guess I’ll be in the company of off-the-grid hermits, some nuns in secluded nunneries (and guys in monasteries), and … who else shirks (by design and/or remoteness) so-called ‘social media’?
A different flavor of weather arrived late yesterday, causing a dip in the heating-up of recent. We could be snug/cuddling by a crackling fire. Ya’ know, I feel a bit more cut off already. The wagunz are circulled, night befalls. the coyotes ca-calls …
I’VE GIVEN UP
what a relief. now that i know not to bother ever, and even, trying again, i can take it a lot easier.
but, shoot, i am, you are, all of us, feet STUCK in the pre-ordained tracks of the maze. of the dance (if one considers oneself graceful). the intertwining orbits, definitely subcelestial, as we rotate, and spin, gain and lose mass, emissions of varying frequencies, but DOOMED to predictability all the same.
A TEMPORARY RELIEF, at best.
nothing will change. i will go thru’ the motions, perhaps the motions will go thru’ me, ebb and flow of tides, one intermingling with the other. the soup of me and it.
i looked at small trees on a hillside as i was driving past today. betty had read a book, a history of some pioneers in the area. talked of an event a mere 100 years ago. i thought that those trees probably weren’t there then. identical trees were. are there individual life forces in a forest? or a collective group mindmeld sort of life-force? one with a memory? ’cause, you may know, biologists have reported that groves of aspen trees can be considered to be a single living thing, or being.
most of us watch ‘Avatar’ and remember that EWA apparently and presumably was of one mind.