Desperately Seeking Solace

Monday

  • My friends and I are now late sixties, early seventies, and we have generally accepted that each day represents borrowed time.  There are too many reminders to ignore.  Our role models mostly long gone, well-known public personalities dying unexpectedly, relatives and those we loved afflicted terribly or vanished. 
  • Intellectually all lives are borrowed time.  Logically, we accept that we are mortal.  But viscerally, we expect to live at least one more day, one more year, one more always.  As personal times become more ominous, we often project our own fate onto the larger world, and see it crumbling like our own memories.
  • Solace is easily found in this wonderful abundant culture.  Food, leisure, warmth, distraction abound even for those of few means, and for those with even slight affluence the daily feasts and entertainments are far better than those of any ancient emperors.  But nagging thoughts curdle occasionally.  Our importance has generally shrunk, we are often ignored, sometimes in the way, tolerated or taken for granted.  We shrink active spheres to grandchildren or volunteerism, all noble, but not world-changing in the ways we thought of affecting the universe when we were twenty.
  • I get out with the sun and wind, listen to birds and waves, smile at passerbys in their hassled rush, enjoy the screams and laughs of children.  The news on various media is one vast soap opera. 
  • Life remains good.  I adjust my mind.  Borrowed time, like borrowed money, can be a useful commodity.

Tuesday

  • Compared to chattering civilization, nature seems secure and stately.  Hills and trees do not move, vistas seem wrapped in eternity, birds follow ancient scripts of activity and migration, seasons progress without variation year to year.  That perspective is comforting, but false.  Sand cliffs along the sound are eroding rapidly, even without the frequent incursion of humans, hills themselves are cut by streams, vistas disappear from view as forest grows larger, and the most ancient and massive trees eventually fall.  Bird patterns are harder to determine, but mixes and ranges of species change all the time.
  • The biologic term for rapid change in the global environment is “punctuated equilibrium.”  As long as things remain relatively steady, there is an orderly progression of life into various niches.  But on occasion, probably including the period we are living through, there are immediate far-reaching losses and opportunities.  After the nearly tropical winter we have been experiencing, I begin to wonder if in a decade we may see palm trees lining the harbors here.  Extinctions are numerous.  Great chunks of ecology have been erased _ particularly isolated pockets of uniqueness _ but vast common opportunities such as city and suburb have been opened up.  I try to accept all that without too much sadness, just as I try to remember vanished ancient social patterns of my youth without regret.

Wednesday

  • It can’t happen here.  It won’t happen here
  • It might happen here.

Thursday

  • We are now in the midst of the Bannon administration.  The president is an ignorant bitter old miser, who enjoys performing mean-spirited stand-up comedy.  Some see Steve Bannon as Hitler, he sees himself as Savonarola. I view him as Rasputin.
  • He’s beefing up ICE, a massive centralized police force answering to no one, which can act without warrants on mere suspicion, arrest people without cause, hold presumed-guilty arrestees indefinitely in concentration camps _ oops, make that “detention centers” _ until they can prove their innocence, ship the “guilty” off to probable death.   Probably soon all non-citizens will be required to wear some badge such as a yellow star when they are in public.  He encourages neighbors to report neighbors, just as Stalin-era children were encouraged to report parents.
  • In Russia, in 1913, nobody could foresee that in ten years they would be in the middle of a communal experiment, that another decade would bring mass famine and gulag slavery.  In Weimar German, few suspected that in ten years they would be living in a terrorist dictatorship, nor that a decade later everything would lie in ruins all around them.  Societies can change faster than we think.
  • Bannon has massively armed private armies _ oops, make that “citizen militias” _ that he can muster to clear the streets of opposition.  He screams epithets at immigrants and other scapegoat groups to direct the anger of his alt-right followers towards a simple reason for their troubles and failures.  He publicly declares that he wants to destroy everything that has made America the beacon of the world following World War II.  He performs his black-magic rites and whispers evil persistently into the empty shell of his nominal ruler.
  • It can happen here.  It is happening here.

Friday

  • Late winter salt marsh lies dormant and soggy, under heavy skies, continually filled with the salty pump of the tides.  A quiet place, abandoned even by waterfowl.  In another month, standing in this spot will become uncomfortable with clouds of gnats, to be followed by swarms of mosquitoes, but right now insects bide their time in winter storage.  So there are on
    ly patterns of color, contrasts of blue and brown, interesting reflections and rotting signs of older usage such as fence posts along the drainage ditches.
  • People too are absent this afternoon.  I have as much solitude as is possible in this little overcrowded corner of the Northeast.  I’m grateful for such unexpected moments, which I didn’t even know I needed until they came upon me.  Away from the worries, and the hassles, and the chatter, I can imagine that the world goes on calmly as always, that it is greater than me and my trivial concerns, that the sheer mass of what exists can overcome transient stupidity.  Easy to believe, alongside this marsh.  Doubts will return as I head home.

Saturday

Starlings have swept into the backyard like a ravaging horde, emptying the bird feeders in less than an hour, thick in the trees, making a terrific unmusical racket.  “Karl, hey Karl!  What’s been going on?” shouts one glistening blue-black marauder to another.
“Usual, usual.  Clogging old maple trees in town, coating the cars underneath with well-placed shots, making patterns in the sky.  Been a good winter.”
“Sure has.  I don’t think I’ve been hungry an hour.”
“And cold?  No cold.  Why, this is almost as good as my aunt Burga describes Rome itself.”
“Ah, they’re always talking about the old country, aren’t they?”
“We’re just as good here, this season.  Wow, these idiots put out some kind of spread, don’t they?”
“Hey! You!!  Get out of here!!!” screams Wilhelm, jerking menacingly towards a terrified chickadee trying to grab a seed.  “Stupid little things act like they own the place.”

The flock takes up the common squawk,  and as the din reaches a crescendo, all wing off together to see if there might be more fun somewhere else.

Sunday

Each twelve hours, more or less
Surging tides relentlessly
Smooth sand shores with waves blown free
Leave no signatures to guess
What went before, to touch smell see
My random shards of memory
Resist oblivion’s soft process
No simple tale for history’s key
Like flashing ripples of bright sun
May blind my eyes but quickly done
Nevermore exactly run
Identical, yet ceaselessly

All transient in time’s caress

Hello, Lion!

Monday

  • Old proverbs and sayings are rarely examined for truth.  Most of them, examined logically, are incomprehensibly wrong.  “Darkest right before dawn”, “a penny saved”,  “what doesn’t kill you”, and, possibly the worst: “things work out for the best.”  But right up there is “March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.”  Around here, March does what it darn well pleases, any given hour, day or week.  It is possibly the most fickle month of the year, and generally shows no progression to mildness.
  • Possibly for that reason, it seems such old sayings are dying out with my generation.  Newer and more applicable memes _ some just as insanely wrong, of course _ are coined daily from rap music and media sound-bites.  It’s been a long while since I’ve heard people except those my age quoting an old proverb, or applying a nursery rhyme to a situation.
  • To be sure, that is not much of a loss, although it represents just one more part of a once tightly-knit common culture fraying rapidly.  Undoubtedly a new binding of attitudes is taking its place among the young, but that is hardly comforting to those of us who feel more and more cut off from our roots.  I still think of March lions, and April showers, and merry May, and feel mild regret that my children don’t have the faintest idea what I am talking about.

Tuesday

  • As an occasional day turns warmer, sun begins to burn pale skin, and light extends into the evening, the quest for signs of spring and coming seasons becomes almost obsessive.  New garlic clumps are glowing green, after all, and early bulbs like crocuses can burst forth from improbable locations.  Brambles and other vines are ready to green and fuzz with opening leaves.  Birds frolic and couple and once in a while there is even a poor misdirected insect wandering about.
  • I pursue in an extreme up and down pattern.  Days filled with indications of astonishingly rapid vitality are followed by a week of cold grey stasis.  I’m grateful for the first swatches of color, but too quickly search for more.  I keep confusing this last month of winter with the first post-solstice months of spring, which have their own issues confounding my expectations.  I need to slow down, more than ever, and just enjoy the moments as they occur for what they are, never for what I hope and imagine they might become. 

Wednesday

  • Maybe it’s just my age, but lately tempus seems to fugiting much too quickly.
  • This year, winter appears to be leaving before it truly arrived.

Thursday

  • Boomers grew up into an American-dominated world.  Most of us thought it would always be that way, and that we would end up in the fifties-type society inhabited by our parents, without having to endure a depression or world war (unless WWIII killed us all.)
  • Lower middle class kids expected decent stable jobs with ongoing raises and more and more consumer products, a nice house in the suburbs, new cars every few years.  Upper middle class kids were indoctrinated as the best and the brightest, the glowing hopes of the world, stuffed with history and culture and science in the hopes of producing perfect little humans leading the way into a utopian millennium.
  • We tried to know an awful lot about the past.  That didn’t help us survive adulthood or get a good job.
  • So modern students concentrate on networking, the immediate, the here and now, never mind all that ancient boring garbage.  Morality is what fits today.  Survival is what happens in the next week.  Perhaps they are right.
  • I survey the world and am worried.  Well, that’s been the role of seniors since at least the dawn of agricultural civilization, when people could grow old.  My complaints mean as little as those of any other geezers in the last few thousand years.  For better or worse, it’s up to the kids now.  If only the ancient crones who desperately clutch powerful jobs would die or retire and get out of the way.  

Friday

  • Around now each year the willows begin to bud, fluffy and white, some peeking out timidly, some boldly bursting into display no matter what the temperature.  Grass which has browned and died back under layers of snow shows blushes of green.  There seems to be a (sometimes imaginary) haze of emerald or scarlet surrounding briar patches.  And already there has been at least one crocus open, while daffodils thrust restlessly with swollen buds.
  • Often in early March these first signs of breaking winter are welcome and almost incongruent to the hostile environment.  This year has been one of thaw and heat wave, worrisome if you are concerned about planetary warming, otherwise locally welcome.  At the moment, I am more concerned that exposure can be shattered by some still-possible event.  Deep freeze can destroy flowers and leaves,  trees with buds swelling are increasingly vulnerable to heavy wet snow.  But _ hey, I’m just a passenger _ so I watch and enjoy and marvel and am grateful for being able to wander freely outside as many hours as I desire.

Saturday

Sun beams proudly among his peers.  “Look what my clever local intelligence has accomplished,” he boasts to friend star Trapp.  “They’ve discovered all your planets already.  What are yourlifeforms doing?”
“Still slime and acids, I’m afraid,” responds Trapp timidly.  “Haven’t had as much time as yours, you know.”
“Don’t let him bully you,” chimes in Epsili.  “Water-based intelligence is a transitory phenomenon,  hardly worth noticing anywhere.  How long have your creatures been clever, Sun, if you can even call them that?”
“Well, they can trace their lineage back billions …” Sun hesitates.
“None of that now,” thunders Sirius.  “The actual creatures, the ones who supposedly found Trapp’s stuff.”
“At least a million planetary year cycles …”
“Yeah, yeah,” taunts Epsili.  “But how long with tools and social organization to actually look up and think about things?”
“A few tens of thousands ..”
“And with capability to look at Trapp and his planets?”
“Depends.  Maybe ten thousand, maybe a few hundred, I don’t know.  But they are clever now!” shouts Sun defiantly.
“Flash in the pan.  I’m willing to bet my Jovian giant that they’ve completely vanished in less than a century.”

Unfortunately, there are no takers.

Sunday

Social storms spew strife
Anger encases weep
Each morn worse than ever
Nature spins bright life
Always calm and deep
Sustaining genes’ endeavor
I know there’s no forever
Escaping mortal knife

But these times trouble sleep

S’no Break

Monday

  • Over the next two weeks or so, Huntington experiences changes in population and usage patterns.  Schools have their week-long winter break, whole families head south for sun or north for snow and the town, if not quite deserted, briefly seems less crowded.  Many elders who have endured the season fortified by knowledge of reward are leaving for longer periods somewhere warm, hoping to come back to mild noons and blooming flowers.
  • Weather for the next month is always fickle in the extreme.  Intense storms and cold may be followed by days of furiously thawing warmth.  During such warmth, there may be crocuses blooming.  Then, perhaps, more snow.  But, unlike the mood in early January or late December, such inconstancy is easy to endure, if only because we know it is inconstant and will change soon, and always toward the better.
  • Having grown up in antediluvian days, I never experienced a winter break other than an occasional few days off from school.  There were neither time nor finances available to go away somewhere.  Nor, for that matter, many places to go nor inexpensive ways to get there.  Somehow, throughout our working lives we never acquired the habit.
  • No regrets and no resentments.  There were compensations, and now I am at a point where I can ignore slippery streets and stay home rather than fight my way to an office.  Times have changed, but I have probably changed, at least psychologically, a lot less than I sometimes think.

Tuesday

  • True naturalists are fascinated by winter patterns.  Even the most common animals must somehow survive cold, famine, storm, and snow.  All birds cannot find outdoor feeders.  Squirrels have fur, but with insulation potential hardly matching that of people.  What do deer, raccoons, and mice eat?  And what is going on with all the various insects and bacteria we cannot see?  Not to mention the various and wonderful adaptations of the plant kingdom.
  • Winter world is in some ways more marvelous than summer.  It is easy to imagine active competition and synergy among organisms in a thriving environment, each growing furiously, acquiring nutrients and other necessities as quickly as possible.  A race to be best, or, in cliché, active survival of the fittest.  But winter is even more of a test, and yet mostly invisible to me as a casual onlooker.  Some organisms _ perhaps ranged too far on global warming _ will die during a cold snap.  Others will not find food under a foot of snow.  An odd, but rewarding, viewpoint for me to ponder as I await warming spring.

Wednesday

  • All work and no play …
  • All play and no work can become boring, so we tend to invent chores.

Thursday

  • My children only laugh when I claim Joan and I are taking a break of some kind.  To them, retirement is one long break, day after day, as we do nothing while they scurry about in their busy lives hemmed in by constant obligations.  Mostly they are correct.
  • From our own perspective, work and things to do have somehow accumulated enough to usually fill our days.  We have slowed a bit, and can do a little less than once upon a time, but for the most part these are actually golden years, and we can take hours to do as we wish or nothing at all.  In a lot of ways, it is a perfect way of life, and I am privileged to be enjoying it.
  • Since distant vacations require commitment and fairly large amounts of money, we have lately been deciding each year if we wish to overwinter.  A gamblers bet.  Will it be harsh or mild?  This year, for various reasons, we decided to stay north and take our chances.  At first, predictions were for one of the worst seasons ever, filled with storm and freeze.  Then reality happened.
  • So, at least most of the time, it has been pleasant.  Our breaks occur on sunny temperate days, or in going to stores or other indoor attractions.  We have not been stuck at home more than a few days, never too many days in a row.  These months have represented their own kind of change, when I could spend more time thinking and reading without the call of rushing outdoors or to some park.
  • Would I have enjoyed such a time when I was young and full of hormones and energy?  Probably not.  Back then, breaks were essential times to recharge and relax, but only in relation to doing so many things that were required, necessary, and, on reflection, accomplishments to be proud of.

Friday

  • Waves crash ceaselessly on shore, wind erases all sounds of civilization near and far.  Voices of crowds are forgotten, automobiles are banished,  the hurry of things to do fades forgotten in the brisk cold.  Shells line the high water mark, in astonishing numbers.  Flocks of gulls parade about in compete ownership of this territory, which they will have to yield in a few months to equivalent flocks of humans.  Winter’s open beach border, cleared of snow by brine and tide, is a wonderful place.
  • Many other people know this, of course, and I share this afternoon with several.  Most remain in their cars, simply happy to enjoy the view without the pain of severe wind chill.  Fortunately, I have dressed or overdressed quite well, and can sit on a bench not isolated from touch and smell and sound.  We are all a unique brotherho
    od, privileged to have the time to be here on a prime weekday afternoon, and with the aesthetic longing to leave comfortable interiors and busy bazaars to experience a bit of the immense wider world.

Saturday

“So, Snow,” begins Pavement one sunny frigid morning, “What you been doing?  Haven’t seen much of you the last few months.”
“Been a tough year, very hard.  You guys had the drought to begin with, you know, that lingered through the late fall.  Then Cold Air got caught up somewhere up North.  So until this week, just couldn’t get around to doing much here.”
“I see your cousin West Rain is kicking up a storm in California.  At least he’s kept busy.”
“Oh, yeah, and Sister Betty has them cursing all over Europe.  I thought about helping out, but just ended up visiting friends in Canada and Maine.  At least it’s still pretty normal up there.”
“Well, good show this week, anyway.  You planning to stick around a while?”
“Pretty tough with Sun doing his thing more and more,” replies Snow.  “Might get in one more big performance, but no guarantees.  Like I said, been a tough year.”
“Not the same as the old days, for sure,” agrees Pavement.
“Nope.  Why I remember years when …”
“Changing times, changing climes, maybe gone for good,” Pavement interrupts.
“Hope not, but you may be right.  As I said, tough times.  Maybe catch you later, gotta melt now.”

“Au revoir, amigo”

Sunday

Quietly sitting, alone by the fire
Drained of ambition, worry, desire
Reading adventures of some distant place
Complete disembodied from this time and space
Some call it laziness, I call it free

Encompass a universe all within me.

A Philosophy Manifesto

A Philosophy Manifesto

From time to time I like to engage in longer essays.  This is a response to a recent article concerning the Berggruen Institute which hopes to use Philosophy to solve some difficult problems of modern civilization.

What is Philosophy

  • ·         Philosophy is the consideration of everything known and unknown as related to individual human consciousness.  Instead of a cute new nomenclature such as “Scientific Philosophy,” anything previous to the current century will simply be labeled “Classic Philosophy.”
  • ·         Classic Philosophy was greatly concerned with the meaning and truth of reality.  Philosophy must accept that we may have reached the limits of human understanding concerning the structure of the universe.  Within that structure, almost everything that is knowable is known.  Philosophy allows that all this may be wrong and we may live, for example, in a butterfly’s dream, but also accepts such speculation as irrelevant to daily human consciousness.  On the other hand, Philosophy accepts that the irrational and chaotic must be integrated into its framework as much as logic.
  • ·         A fundamental change in outlook has occurred.  We now understand that our universe, and life itself, are not static nor precisely fitted components, but rather a series of everything in dynamic tension often leading to temporary equilibrium.  Examples are centrifugal force and gravity, or lipids in a cell, or paired leptons.  Time is an arrow.

Who are Philosophers

  • ·         Unlike Plato, Philosophy should not define Philosophers as the best, brightest, or wisest.  Philosophers are all those in the great middle of humanity, adequately educated in their society, commonly recognized as sane most of the time.  Philosophers define meaning and purpose, as well as the way in which to achieve such goals.  In doing so, they recognize that contradictions and irrationality are necessarily part of any temporary dynamic solution.
  • ·         Philosophers, unlike Classic Philosophers, must accept common scientific conventions of reality.   In the physical universe, what cannot be observed, proved, and demonstrated is not real.  In the consciousness, what cannot be communicated with others is likewise irrelevant.  Anyone who does not meet those criteria cannot be considered a Philosopher.
  • ·         Each person contains a multitude of outlooks which nearly make them multiple consciousnesses.  Each person changes dramatically over time _ the child is not the adult, the adult of one year is not identical to the adult of the next.  All Philosophers must recognize that fact before reducing individuals to a bland axiom such as “everyone needs a purpose.”  They must most importantly recognize such in themselves.
  • ·         Logic is not sufficient for human experience.  This is why Philosophers recognize that artificial intelligence has no place in Philosophy.  Philosophers must be willing to utilize the frightening paths of intuition and common sense as much as they do axiomatic reasoning.
  • ·         Contradictions are integral components of tensions of reality.  Each of us is simultaneously important and unimportant.  My freedom conflicts with yours.  In differing situations, the same question has different answers.  Philosophers recognize that contradictions can only be contained, not controlled.

Common Objective Reality

  • ·         Anyone who uses electricity accepts our current understanding of common objective reality.  This is an integrated structure composed of scientific experimentation, technological application, mathematical modeling.  Two Philosophers can agree on the objective reality of a given tree _ how it is made, its internal system, its history _ without difficulty.
  • ·         Our experience of reality can only be communicated.  Two Philosophers may never agree on whether a given tree is beautiful.  One may consider it potential firewood, the other may revere it as a sacred example of nature.
  • ·         Common objective reality is aware of time, history, interrelations, and basic cause and effect.  It contains repeatable useful patterns such as making a fire.  It finds that yesterday is a useful predictor of today and a probable guide to tomorrow.
  • ·         Using common objective reality, Philosophers would agree that humans are social animals.  There is a clear context whereby humans fit into the universe, related to other animals by time.  There are vast studies of the way in which social interactions among humans have existed in the past and exist in the present.
  • ·         Common objective reality has discarded the notion of eternally static and balanced systems.  Everything, from the subatomic to the galaxy level, is in a state of impermanence maintained by inertia and conflicting forces and events.  Importantly, these tensions permeate life itself, which is delicate dynamic between various extremes of destruction.  An uncontrolled cell or hormone can kill.
  • ·         Although statistical probability is a useful tool, no local particular events can be predicted accurately.  We can never tell when a particle will decay, or if I will be alive tomorrow.  Chaos assures that any given event could result in any of vastly different consequences.  Speculations beyond the level of what we can observe _ such as the existence of other universes _ are irrelevant to Philosophy.

Big Questions

  • ·         Classic Philosophy was concerned with defining a common objective reality as much as it was with the experience of consciousness.  It was even necessary to define the tools for exploration.  What is the sun, for example.  Philosophy can consider most of this branch of inquiry satisfied for all practical purposes.
  • ·         The big remaining questions may not have answers.  They are somewhat like defining the requirements for a beautiful tree.  Perhaps the best that can be hoped for is to achieve clear communication on goals and tradeoffs. 
  • ·         (1) What is a good and just society?  What tensions must it utilize?  How can it balance its basic requirements for continuity and stability with the pressures of people seeking to change and optimize their own lives?  Must it have some purpose?  Just as important, how can Philosophy frame and discuss the issues involved?
  • ·         (2) What is a good life?  Here the experience of any Philosopher is as good as that of any other.  People have argued this for a long time, studied others, thought deeply.  Knowing we are social animals may help discard some unproductive approaches.  Some major concerns loop back to existing in what the individual considers a good and just society.   Others touch on how an individual feels meaningful and happy throughout a range of consciousnesses and years of aging.

Framework

  • ·         Philosophy cannot design perfect societies nor perfect lives.  Certainties approaching perfection only occur in the external universe.  No society will please everyone equally, and even a wonderfully adapted society in one time and place will fail in another.  A life worthy of emulation in some ways may be terrible in others.  This area of Philosophy seems nearly hopeless.
  • ·         Bromides melt upon examination.  “Greatest good for greatest number” ignores time and external competition.  “Do not kill” is obviously contingent on situation.  “Love thy neighbor as thyself” consistently fails in communal settings.  No letter of the law is always just, and the spirit of the law is largely subjective fog.
  • ·         Classic Philosophy must be discarded.  We know infinitely more than the ancients.  We have the technologic powers of gods.  We thrive in inconceivable numbers.  The globe is interconnected.  Millennia of history are available for examination.   It is true that people are still people, but even the common bounds of social intercourse (women, slaves, barbarians) which bound Classic Philosophers have been shattered.
  • ·         Philosophy is not impossible.  Current societies exist, continue, and some do quite well.  Individuals generally are happy enough to survive to another day and reproduce.  The social areas of Philosophy, like those of the external world, should always start at what actually exists and why.  Just as medieval philosophers wasted time attempting to turn lead into gold, modern philosophers attempting to describe utopia are foolish.

Quantum Humanity

  • ·         Classic Philosophy and much that has followed have a tendency to examine the individual, then the relation to society.  Philosophy recognizes that human relations are not so homogenous.  The implications of humans being social animals are that the individual is strongly affected by innate biology, and that social interaction is loosely related to that of other primates.  Although it is true that humans are infinitely socially adaptable, most ethnographic and historic studies show a lumpy pattern of interaction, rather than a smooth relation between one individual and another.
  • ·         Before adulthood humans are helpless and require social learning.  After adulthood their interrelations tend to resemble the valence shells of electrons _ individual, family, tribe, society, civilization.  All of these quanta interrelate in variable tensions.  The study and understanding of these tensions is of immense importance.
  • ·         The individual, in some ways, is no better known than to Classic Philosophy, which primarily understood from introspection.  However, acceptance of common objective reality focuses on biologic drives such as instinct and hormones rather than supernatural causes of emotions, moods, and outlooks.  We can change an individual’s perception by, for example, adjusting body chemistry with drugs.  It remains an open question whether one person in a happy, sad, or murderous mood is actually the same person.  It surely remains unknown to what extent a sixty year old is identical to the earlier five year old.  Philosophy must take account of the individual consciousness, for that is the only reason to try to understand.
  • ·         Generally, individuals clump into family units.  Family units of various types are usually composed of people joined by blood, law, and convention,  recognized as special by other social units.  Families often provide the primary interface for wealth, property, children, shelter, and so on.  Individuals within a family often have totally different interactions than they do with those outside this unit.
  • ·         Individuals then extend into a more tenuous relationship with tribes, often multiple, consisting of other individuals sharing some common purpose.  An individual may simultaneously belong to tribes such as those formed by employment,  neighborhood, or social class.  Each tribe tends to have its own norm and rules, although all tribes conform to the basic standards of the society in which they are formed.
  • ·         The cultural umbrella under which similar tribes operate is a common society.  Societies share rituals, enforce boundaries, agree on permissible behaviors.  A common cultural outlook fosters a strong “us versus them” division between those within one society, and those who are part of another.
  • ·         Finally, more important as the world became more connected and crowded, is the concept of a civilization.  Basically, a civilization arbitrates which people are human and which are not.  Shared general outlooks and values allow for vast differences in encompassed societies, but require destruction or suppression of alternative civilizations.  There could be, for example, no reconciliation between Timor with his piles of human skulls and the trading cities of the Silk Road. 

Methodology

  • ·         Philosophy must always center on the study of the individual consciousness.  Without that consciousness there is no reason to do anything.  The purpose of Philosophy is to provide useful patterns to our human pattern-association thinking so that we can be fulfilled internally, and exist adequately with other people.  This must remain the core rationale of any observations or conclusions.
  • ·         From an external perspective, societies resemble any other groupings in nature from ants and termites to elephant herds.  What social or internal tensions formulate their behavior? Although it is tempting to consider any given human statistically as just another termite, that is a false path that should be resisted.  From the standpoint of Philosophy, that one human is more valuable than whatever construct it is part of.  This implies that the study of individuals and society is so radically different from the study of common objective reality as to be nearly incomprehensible.
  • ·         Study of internal consciousness often begins with Socratic method _ querying oneself or another to solicit a useful consensus or discovery.  A fatal flaw is our multiple consciousnesses _ what we answer on a vacation beach in the morning will differ greatly from what we answer after a hard day at grimy work or after a few drinks relaxing with friends.  Socratic method relies on logic, and logic is a poor guide to consciousness over time, not least because consciousness is largely irrationally subjective and not part of common objective reality.
  • ·         Common Objective Reality must, of course, be considered, particularly as to what parts of social interaction are in this “reality” and what are not.  A person deprived of liberty because of a crime or dying from terminal disease is constrained situationally far beyond whatever their conscious desires and states.  Yet even here, the Philosophic consideration begins with the individual affected, less so with the social or physical events.
  • ·         Obviously the most important external tool is observation of individuals and the matrix in which they associate.  Observations must include historic and ethnographic studies, since no given slice of social behavior can possibly present the full range of viable possibilities.
  • ·         A vast literature consisting of fiction, mythology, religion, and internal observation exists to immensely aid in study of individuals and their response to various situations in the world.  Unfortunately, technology has rendered some of these almost valueless in the context of current culture.  Marcus Aurelius is deep a
    nd interesting, but bound by the limitations of knowledge in his time and responding to various pressures that no longer exist in the same form.
      Philosophy must be as careful to winnow out irrelevant information as it is to accumulate that which is useful.
  • ·         Matrix relations are an immense challenge.  Any change to _ for example _ the status of an individual within a tribe will also cause large and small perturbations in relations to self, family, society, and civilization, none of which can be ignored and all of which become simultaneously active.  Mapping dynamic tensions within all these groupings, let alone putting them into predictive formulations, is clearly a massive undertaking.  But it does mean that no studies can restrict themselves to tiny bits of the larger problem, as is commonly done in science.
  • ·         To complicate Philosophy further, all knowledge in the social area must be regarded as chaotic and fractal _ there is no ultimate smallest bit of axiomatic knowledge, and there is no possible way of predicting the outcome of any given event.  Statistical tension analysis with probability is the best that can be accomplished, but the limitations of that should always be recognized.
  • ·         Finally, Philosophy must accept that it no longer exists in the world of Classic Philosophy, no matter how comforting that may seem.  Knowledge and technology have totally reworked the paradigms, not only of society, but also of the consciousnesses of those who make up a society.  It is impossible for me to think as Aristotle did, although I may have some similarities.  The components of consciousness may be the same _ “I”, “you”, “them”, “it”_ but the manner in which it has been shaped is unrecognizable.

Immediate Requirements

  • ·         Just as Classic Philosophy required the development of logic and formal mathematical statements, and as the discovery of common objective reality required the development of scientific method and its technology, so Philosophy directed at human consciousness and social interaction will require the use of new and more powerful tools.  These may be provided by computers, data mining, and artificial intelligence.  Some of the workable results may be all but incomprehensible to humans.  But even now, games with relatively limited core representations and strategies provide surprisingly realistic outcomes for warfare, economic development, and evolving social patterns.
  • ·         Philosophy realizes limitations.  No system, however perfect, can predict the future enveloped in chaos, let alone the results of black swan events such as plague, famine, or nuclear war.  The immediate goal should be to develop tools that can work in any situation, however chaotic, and objectively observe, analyze, predict probabilities, and hopefully provide a blueprint for something better.  Ideally, in relatively stable situations, it would allow for modeling of proposed adjustments to social interactions.
  • ·         Since Philosophy in the social arena ultimately anchors on individual human consciousness, the incredible lack of any reasonable way to depict this state makes most other analysis highly suspect, if not impossible.  We require a way to examine anyone, including ourselves, and map it into a matrix including mood, outlook, possibility, volatility, variability, and so on.  Furthermore, this mapping should work across cultures and time, so that anyone, anywhere, could be similarly mapped. 
  • ·         We are in the medieval stage of describing individuals as social entities.  There is a hodgepodge of tests and scales relating to IQ, emotional status, interrelationships.  But there must be some consistent way of charting “a good honest hardworking middle-class woman.”  Ideally, this would be predictive of changes as a person grows older.  Obviously, this is dependent on also nailing down cultural-dependent descriptions such as “good” _ a good Nazi is not identical to a good Buddhist monk.  However, if even the basics of this measurement can be standardized, it should also be possible to discover and use multiple generic types to model social interactions. 
  • ·      
      
    Once a way of representing an individual social entity is formulated, a relatively trivial but complicated task will be to depict and utilize the various tensions that maintain a role in society.  These include internal self-to-self desires and controls, as well as those from the individual involving other random individuals, family, tribe, society, and civilization.  This is obviously a formidably massive undertaking, but with the help of technology should be able to reduce to a known and finite number of inputs in any situation.
  • ·         Philosophers themselves struggle with internal desires which vary and conflict with one another.  Desires change from moment to moment, affected by mood, chemicals, peers, and situation.  Yet it is also true that whatever the internal desires, their external manifestations most of the time are muted and made acceptable to social interaction.  Maslow’s hierarchy, Freud’s subconscious, are crude attempts to bring order, but they tend to be pathetically useless in actually describing what I want,  and how I pursue or repress that desire.  Yet without some way to chart desires and their results in a common and agreed way it will be nearly hopeless to advance Philosophy in the social arena.
  • ·         Social boundaries provide the tensions to control desires.  These may be set internally, for example by role models, or externally by family and other people.  Often these boundaries, although clearly understood and utilized, are nearly invisible to observation or even introspection.  Yet the most important of these _ for example that I generally would not kill someone if I were angry with them _ are commonly utilized in all phases of social interaction and law and should not be impossible to put into a standard model of behavior.
  • ·         When discussing boundaries, which actually provide the glue of a society, the first consideration is who or what defines them.  Boundaries are set internally, by other individuals, by the family and so forth.  Identifying the actual people or processes which set these boundaries is the normal starting point of much ethology, as it studies a culture.  Who or what controls the commonly accepted behaviors of a community?  But here, also, a standard notational method has not been provided.
  • ·         After boundaries (and aspirations) have been defined and accepted, sometimes an individual overcomes the tension restraining his desire.  In such case the society provides enforcers, whether police or peers, who restrain or punish deviant behavior.  Feedback of a sane person knowing enforcement exists acts to strengthen the tension holding his internal desires in place.
  • ·         A hidden role is that of mediators, who act like enzymes to facilitate interactions or reduce conflicts before enforcers take drastic actions.  Like definers and enforcers, the various mediating influences in a society should be discovered and mapped.  For example, a family member may be able to prevent an individual from acting against boundaries provided by his employment tribe. 
  • ·         With this structure in place, in a commonly accepted notational framework, further Philosophic work is possible.  Otherwise, there is little hope for achieving any more ambitious goals.

Intermediate Goals

  • ·         Decisions on intermediate goals of Philosophy resemble those of Classic Philosophy, but with definite technological and scientific breaks.  Can ancient societies _ with slave labor instead of machines, and viewpoints based on supernatural visions rather than scientific knowledge and  global interconnections and personal power _ offer any reasonable guidance for present and future societies?  Or must some entirely new ideas become fundamental to the inquiry?
  • ·         Introspection usually reveals that most people would like to be happy, and being happy usually means being allowed to do what
    they want.
      The actual desire may depend entirely on situation _ from getting enough food for the next meal to demanding reservations at the most exclusive restaurant in a city _ but there will be anger directed similarly at any institution or person who obstructs fulfillment.  People, of course, learn to generally handle desires within the contextual boundaries of the civilization, even as they may resent those borders.
  • ·         So a key question is how can a person feel free.  Can thoughts be shaped from childhood, can language be limited as in 1984, can drugs or entertainment or learning cause a complete internalization of cultural norms so that no angry conflict is ever experienced?  Or is freedom best instituted by allowing people to travel between societies, change tribes, abandon families, or even somehow exit civilization entirely?  The historic answer has been, of course, freedom lies in escape _ to another place, to a frontier, to some society or tribe more congenial to innate desires.
  • ·         So Philosophy must consider how truly different cultural societies can be maintained in an interconnected civilization.  It can never assume that one pattern will make all people happy _ even the actual Philosopher will discover that at various times, ages, and situations desires vary immensely.  But if multiple cultures are encouraged, how are boundaries set?  Two basic rules apply, enforced by the community of societies in a civilization.  (1) Any society must allow the free movement of anyone in and out of itself.  (2) No society may aggressively attack another civilized society, nor damage common property such as water and air.  Societies which violate those agreements must be destroyed by the global community.
  • ·         An easier task is maintaining multiple interlocking tribes within a society, because they can maintain themselves as necessary and are bound within the common culture of the society.  Today, many tribes are simply social media based agglomerations, but it is still uncertain if a tribal satisfaction is fully obtained without actual physical interaction.  In any case, one individual can easily belong to multiple tribes, leave or change memberships, and assume different roles in various places.  This is a traditional way of life for social humans, regardless of technology.  Warriors, for example, have often formed a specialized sub- tribe even within what are normally considered tribes.  Tribal memberships form the easiest way for an individual to achieve personal freedom.
  • ·         If the above structures are healthy, Philosophy need not concern itself with details such as rights and responsibilities, which are best worked out by people within any given society and tribe.  Nor need it concern itself overly with how an individual is controlled within the structure.  Nor is it required to  define rational interactions and plans.  In all cases, it is only at the level of civilization itself that Philosophy needs to worry about boundaries of everything and everyone within it.

Long Term Goals

  • ·         Let Philosophy assume that there will never be an adequate, single way to define and ensure the happiness of an individual nor to define a perfect society for all individuals.  The purpose of Philosophy then becomes how to define the minimum structure for a global civilization containing multiple societies.  The modern twist is that technology is at the point where a society, tribe, family, or even individual could strongly affect and even destroy the biosphere.  So, somehow, a global civilization must be assured that it is aware of, and can deal with, such existential threats.  How to do so while still allowing necessary variances in culture and behaviors will occupy Philosophers for some time to come.
  • ·         As noted, the strongest guarantor of freedom for the individual is the right to leave one society for another.  That freedom is only curtailed when a person or group becomes outlaws, literally outside the pale of civilization.  Outlaws must be dealt with mercilessly, so defining who is an outlaw becomes a difficult test of assigning boundaries on behavior and goals where global civilization draws the line of what can be allowed.
  • ·         It may be easier to define and pursue outlaw tendencies as social pathologies, amenable to early treatment as a mental illness.  This is dangerous ground, but necessary.  Philosophy has a tough nut to crack here, particularly between thoughts, talk, and deeds.  Yet hardly any time has been spent in a Philosophic manner considering this necessity.

Issues

  • ·         Within the context of what Philosophers should be considering, several issues stand out as most important, regardless of how neatly other concepts can be resolved.  These problems are already a global issue, and will only become more so as long a global civilization exists.  They form a kind of basic structure over whatever foundation Philosophy may discover for modern humans.
  • ·         Perhaps the most contentious issue must be that of global identification of each person.  The tools, of course, are already possible via DNA and embedded computer chips.  Without instant reliable tracking of anyone, anywhere, it is hard to see how a global civilization could continue to exist.  There are too many possibilities for unknown, untracked people to use technology to destroy great chunks or all of the delicate webs of culture.  The identification, like ancient tribal tattoos, is what brands anyone as a member of civilization, and makes possible the rights and obligations that entails.  By contrast, those without identification are automatically outlaws.
  • ·         The next most difficult problem is that of child-rearing.  For the most part a group of consenting adults should probably be free to do whatever they want within the confines of their society _ for example not seeking medical care, starving if they do not work, or constantly fighting with neighbors.  But children can never be considered consenting.  There must be some basic socialization and training before they become consenting adults that guarantees that every human born on the planet is raised with the core values and tools of civilization, whatever they may later do with that.  Children, in other words, can never be allowed to be educated and socialized as outlaws.  This will involve all sorts of nasty interventions, since family structure is another basic unit of human society.
  • ·         Making sure that adults, on the other hand, truly consent to their society is relatively simple.  Any ubiquitous device can provide a kind of emergency signal.  And the right to freely move then guarantees that a person unhappy in one situation may migrate to another.  With such a simple mechanism in place, strongly enforced, almost any permutation of adult interactions can be permissible, again given that such interaction does not threaten civilization itself.
  • ·         So what human rights does civilization itself guarantee?  Given the wide range of adaptable needs, desires, and requirements of any individual, perhaps Philosophy would be wisest to simply let this issue be decided within societies and other groups.  If we ignore children and perhaps the mentally disabled, the bulk of populations should probably be considered freely consenting adults in whatever situation they find themselves.  The only human right would then be that of being able to freely move somewhere else, with the aid of external civilization if necessary.
  • ·         So Philosophers must consider this mysterious “civilization” that somehow coordinates and oversees all its component societies.  Is it an association of “black helicopters” and mightily armed super troopers?  Does it poke cameras everywhere?  How exactly can it and should it monitor everywhere to assure that threats to civilization do not develop.  And, of course, if it were to have such awesome powers, how could it be kept under control?
  • ·         Along with that, the other side of the “human right” question, is what actions are absolutely prohibited and who decides what they are.  It could be imagined that building hydrogen bombs, for example, might be on such a list, or modifying disease viruses to be more virulent.  But where to draw the line, and who can be trusted to do so?
  • ·         Even if monitoring and prohibitions are clearly defined, what type of intervention is to be done.  If an entire society metastasizes, for example as in Nazi Germany, must that entire population be destroyed?  Are they simply dissolved and stripped of social standing?  What power is invoked to accomplish this, and how can anyone guarantee that such power is not abused?  Can such problems even be solved?
  • ·         Now, given the current developments in deep data and artificial intelligence, it may be tempting to imagine a true deus ex machina.  Let computers take care of civilization, and let humans otherwise be humans living out their interesting and peaceful lives.  In spite of science fiction, it will probably be fairly easy to assure machines do not become ambitious.  But, again, we know of the perversity of the universe, and it is obviously easy to imagine machine domination going horribly wrong.  Nevertheless, is such a setup, modified as it may become, necessary for planetary survival?
  • ·         In all these discussions, some words have connotations that may not be accurate.  For example, when most people speak of a “society” they tend to imagine a geographically constrained entity like a nation.  But there have always been non-geographic societies, such as religions and their monasteries.  Today immortal international corporations have far more power over lives than all but the strongest national governments.  Such a society intertwines everywhere.  Will human future _ should human future _ become based more on abstract associations involving global employment, or for that matter abstract associations of any kind based on internet affinities.  What does that do to any rational models of freedom, rights, consent, monitoring, and prohibition?  Even now, civilization has a hard time keeping corporations under control.
  • ·         And, finally, as indicated fitfully above, how does any model of human organization avoid the possibility of tyranny.  Philosophers have always known that technology tends to enhance tyranny _ it was far easier to escape a Native American tribe or a Greek city-state than the Roman or Chinese Empires.   If a true oversight civilization were put in place, and somehow turned tyrannical, could it ever be overthrown?  These, too, are eternal Philosophical problems.  Perhaps some genius can solve them as others did calculus.

Conclusion

  • ·         Philosophy can mean thinking about everything or nothing.  “Pragmatists” claim that only ideas which would make some actual difference in our lives are worth thinking about.  Since Philosophy is rooted in our individual subjective consciousness, almost any idea _ no matter how strange to others _ can make a difference to our inward landscapes and outlook.  However, Philosophy can also claim _ more legitimately than science or mathematical models _ to be the correct tool for assessing not only an individual human life, but also those lives interrelating to form social groups.  The need for that study has not changed from the times of the Tao Te Ching or Plato’s Republic.
  • ·         Internal consciousness and useful social interactions form the hardest problems any person faces.  Each life is unique and different, even though it may superficially resemble others.  Each society at each moment is an infinite blend of shifting situations, opportunities, tensions, and demands.  There is no easy, clear, nor simple way to “solve” these with logical declarations.  Philosophers should nevertheless attempt to formally describe and analyze what, after all, has been a few hundred thousand years of increasingly complex social unities, many of which have been astoundingly successful, even though also astonishingly varied.
  • ·         Our massive
    population numbers with immense impact on the planet biosphere itself as well as the awesome potentially apocalyptic technology available to any individual or cult makes this a task which must be undertaken with commitment and force.
      Useful answers _ even useful questions _ are required immediately.

Mild High

Monday

  • In spite of a recent instant blizzard, quick shot of deep freeze, and lingering ice storm, it’s been very mild around here.  There was practically no January thaw, because there was nothing to thaw from.  Even the blizzard was polite, following predictions exactly, beginning at 4am and snowing furiously by 8, letting everyone relax about making decisions to close or take the day off.  Finishing up by 3, so driveways and roads could be cleared.  More of an impromptu holiday than a worrisome event.  And, the day before, it was nearly 60.
  • Some see in this signs of global warming.  I tend to regard it as a typical example of average weather.  But there is no doubt that it has been a good winter for those of us who remain.  I’ve been able to get out to walk, wander parks, even sit outside with almost no particular preparation.  The few episodes of real cold were more invigorating than annoying.
  • Winter breaks begin, people fly off to warmer places.  Tomorrow arrives the feast of Valentines Day, either in commiseration or celebration of love-life.  Already we are halfway through the month, snowdrop flowers have been blooming at the end of the driveway, and birds seem to be mostly having a picnic.

Tuesday

  • A very warm day last week was a chance to sit at Halesite for an hour or so and watch water waving and sparkling and generally calming.  Geese strutted about behind me on their chattering gossip, gulls rode the dark surface serenely together, once in a while taking off for a circular flight just to prove they could still do it.  It’s been a great winter for resting immobile and letting the mind gradually slow down to match the inertia of the body.
  • As I grow older, I find it is sometimes profitable to rest like this.  A few years ago, and for all of my life before, I could hardly sit still.  If outdoors, I’d be moving somewhere, getting the blood moving, thinking grand or puny thoughts in rapid-fire.  Now I am grateful to rest lumpen on a bench, and let the gulls and wind do the moving, let the rest of the folks in the world engage in the great thoughts.

Wednesday

  • Carpe Diem.
  • Letting the day come to you is sometimes the best way to seize it.

Thursday

Today’s photograph a camillia in the wonderful Planting Fields arboretum in Oyster Bay, now in bloom.
  • Seeking patterns in everything, we instantly wonder if anything means more than it appears.  Does a comet blaze some prophecy?  Does a mild winter portend a warming world?  And once we have speculated that perhaps it does, we let imagination attach the most dire consequences to that meaning.  The comet shows a war is about to be lost.  A warm winter means the earth shall soon be rendered uninhabitable by rising heat.
  • But leaving that chatter behind, most of us fail to realize how unusual our climate actually is.  The ice ages, the entire history of our species, are incredibly out of line with a typically warmer Earth throughout its history.  Icy episodes occurred in the planet’s past, to be sure, but none while life existed.  None for the trilobites, none for the dinosaurs, none for most of the age of mammals.  Only in the last few hundred thousand years _ which hardly counts on the march of hundreds of millions _ has there been anything as odd as glacial advance and retreat.
  • We are still living in that weird ice age, when temperate-zones are far cooler than “normal” and when they can randomly swing many degrees into a new phase of glacial accumulation or melt.  The supposedly eternal trees and animals around me have co-evolved with humans to meet these challenges.  But what if those challenges go away?
  • It’s a fun speculation that can continue quite a long ways.  No doubt there is some warming going on.  Certainly humans are contributing to it.  But we should occasionally note that the warming predicted so far would merely return Earth to a climate approaching its average. 
  • Anyway, to paraphrase the old saying, one mild winter does not a climate make.  I note that since the perversity of the universe tends to a maximum, the actual weather this week has been quite frigid.  

Friday

  • Among the pleasures of winter have always been lonely beaches.  The few people who drive to the beach in cold and wind often just stay in their cars, experiencing nature in comfort.  A short stroll away from the parking lot provides splendid isolation, only the wind, wave slap, and gull cries to hear, sharp air and salt tang and crunch of shells underfoot, wide expanses of water and shoreline without a boat in sight.  An occasional dog walking its owner may break the solitude, but all go about enshrouded in heavy clothing and usually weightier thoughts.
  • I tend to visit when the air is coldest and the north wind howls churning up whitecaps.  Not only does it cut down on the “rabble” who try to share my space, but I find it a window into the primeval.  I imagine, briefly, the life of Native Americans and early colonists along these shores at such times, suppress an involuntary shiver, and am thankful once again for modern comforts.  Appreciation is one
    thing.  Endurance, at least in my soft old age, is something else entirely.

Saturday

Roots communicate mysteriously using chemicals and electric signals.  Barney the bulb comes half awake from some disturbance of his long winter rest.  “Agnes?” he asks.
“Wha?  Wha?” she mumbles.  “Leave me alone, I’m tired.”
“Did you feel that?”
“Didn’t feel anything.  Go back to sleep.”
Barney remains restless, and finally realizes it is Ruth, next door, who is sending out messages that the ground is clear and the sun is shining and the air is invigorating.
“But Agnes,” he says, “Ruth says it’s beautiful out and we should get going.”
“Ruth does this every year or so,” replies Agnes grumpily.  “We listen, we shoot up over the ground cover, everything is hunky-dory, and then wham! We get blasted back to soil level and covered with dark snow for weeks.  Go back to sleep.”
“But Agnes.”
“Look, do what you want Barney.  I’m not getting up for at least a month, and that’s final.”

Sunday

See
Flash sparkles on dark sea
I lounge in happy trance
Hard bench full sun warmly
Enchanted by this dance
As gulls float calmly dry
Or wing into bright sky
Breezes cool by chance
Veer, blow, sing, puff gently
Blued shadows now advance
All this staged to free

Me

Natural Escape

Monday

  • Many winters at this latitude, a kind of natural depression sets in, partly from cabin fever, partly just from short days, and, this year, from depressing events beyond our control.  We all try to escape at such moments, some on trips to farther, sunnier locales, others by participating in local carnivals and shows.
  • Nature provides an escape, as always, even in deepest winter.  We are fortunate to possess and be able to afford warmer clothing than any other time in history.  Even under feet of snow, the outward world shows details and abundance.  From stalwart trees with branches swaying gracefully, to local birds already engaging in the preliminaries of mating season, there are things to see.
  • And, of course, we should be grateful to maintain our normal rituals and comforts no matter what.  Electricity provides its various wonders, and the rhythms of work and family are hardly disturbed.  Even nature lovers on the coldest days can spend an hour in a warm car at a beach or overlook, rejuvenating their souls with vistas promising season to come, remembrances past.
  • The days already grow longer.  The harshest grip of winter is passing quickly.  Thoughts already turn to what must be done next, as seed catalogs arrive promising their impossible wonders.
  • We, too, are promising ourselves the impossible.  But nature has already accomplished it.

Tuesday

  • Sometimes it seems that winter holds less promise to enjoy the natural world than other seasons.  Oh, there are spectacles enough _ fantastic sunsets, cracking ice floes, deep snow with branches somehow bent double, even wintry frigid gales somehow braved by fat doves.  But the everyday glories of veined leaves and dramatic flowers are missing.  Somehow dull blueish lichen and brilliant greens of sea-moss are not in the same league.  Eventually it is hoped that better times will arrive.
  • Yet I find by February there are infinite things to experience on a winter beach _ even without being a biological expert like Charlton Ogburn  _ that will easily fill an hour peaceful study, if I have the fortitude and dress warmly.  Sealife remains mostly inaccessible, except as revealed by gulls happily cracking shells for dinner or feasting on a fish carcass.  There are the comical tiny bufflehead flocks diving and dashing off in unison, gigantic swans pairing and taking off on awesome noisy flights, universally common geese as always standing around until they feel a need to stretch wings, and an occasional cormorant who ignores his surroundings like any old monk.  Male ducks are already beginning to cut each other off from possible mates.  Once in a while a brave egret or two can be seen judging the current possibilities for something to eat in unfrozen shallows.  A wonderful time to spend time, too often ignored, I think, in our frantic search for the rare and unusual.

Wednesday

  • Avoid fantasy, deal with reality.
  • According to latest research, reality itself may be fantasy.

Thursday

  • Only those who have time and inclination can make use of truly escaping to nature.  For most of our lives we are scheduled into obligations of work, commuting, shopping, family.  These cannot be ignored, and precious few moments _ as well as no energy at all _ are left for staring at sunsets or walking through groves of trees.
  • I always tried to take the time at work to spend my lunch break outside even in the worst weather.  Of course there was little enough natural in the vast deserts of industrial parks, but always the sky, the air, a tree or two, and ubiquitous weeds.  If nothing else, they could mark the days and the seasons and remind me that there was more to life than fluorescent lighting, computer screens, and angry motorists.
  • Now I have time enough, and a laid-back attitude.  So I compose here, vainly preaching to those who cannot use it anyway _ just as I could never heed such advice in my younger days.  These notes are a kind of journal of thoughts, and in that I am no worse than many of the professional writers, journalists, and videographers _ who often have escaped the wheel of industrialism themselves _ and who vicariously allow us also to escape to nature and exotic lands without leaving our couch.

Bonus Thursday

  • Although this is not a daily events blog, it seemed a bow to nature was in order this morning. The first picture of the day was in fact taken yesterday when it was 55 degrees out.  The picture above is from this morning at 31 degrees in the middle of a blizzard which will dump around 15 inches in the area.  A different, but interesting, kind of natural escape.

Friday

  • With the lack of cold and storms this winter in Huntington, walking in the woods has been more an issue of avoiding mud than tramping thr
    ough snow.  Sports enthusiasts are quite disappointed.  Everyone else, not so much.  Already in some places, a hike through the undergrowth reveals that a lot of green leaves remain from last year.  As always, various rose bushes are putting out new growth. 
  • Although boring in concept, these unspectacular views allow contemplation of the rolling of hills, erosion of streams, erratic boulders, fallen giants and much more that is lost in the flush of heavy leaf cover and a desire to find some exotic flower or bird.  These are calming walks, but I find them just as much an escape from daily social chatter as any overwhelmingly exciting strolls in other seasons.

Saturday

“My, you’re looking fine these days, Jack.”
“Why, thank you Grace,” replied one cardinal to the other as they both happily pecked away at birdseed on the ground.  “Wish I could take credit for it, but …”
“I know, I know, happens to you fortunate guys every year around this time.  I’m lucky to get a bit of a blush on my head.”
“Oh, you look really fine, yourself,” noted Jack gallantly.
“Yeah, yeah, and that’s the season talking too…”
“We don’t get to choose who we are, or even much how we act, you know.  We just take what we can get and make the best of it.”
“Oh, ok,” cheeped Grace resignedly.  “Me too.  Like these amazing magical tidbits on the ground all the time, even in snow.  Just can’t get over it.”
“Well, about time to fly around a bit and get back in shape.  Need to get those hormones pumping to be as scarlet as possible.”
“Take care of yourself and watch out.  You stand out like _ well like a cardinal in the snow.”

“Witty too,” laughed Jack, winging his way into the trees on the way to another spring.

Sunday

Nature can effortlessly
Re-enchant us with all that we see
If we’ve failed or we’ve won
There is always the sun

To remind us what it is to be

Fin De Siecle

Monday

  • Barbara Tuchman’s Guns of August opens by describing the mood of Europe in 1910 _ the so called Fin De Siecle or “End of Century.”  She shows how this was unexpectedly related to what happened a few years later.
  • At the time, Europe had enjoyed a period of nearly 100 years without a major war, almost 30 since the last minor one.  There had been a few conflicts that raged in the rebellious Philippines and South Africa, a shocking conflict between Japan and Russia, but all in all the international order was stable.  Nations’ rulers, often blood relations, were on good terms with one another.  A homogenous Christianized culture bound the majority of inhabitants together.
  • Elites were fat and happy.  They considered war impossible because of the bonds of trade and logic.  Science produced daily marvels, many applied to day to day life.  The standard of living for most people was sufficient and rising.  Marvels were expected in the near future.
  • But.
  • Elites turned tricky and boring government over to whoever wanted it.  The military command grew tired of never having chances for glory and promotions.  Industrialists thought that their rivals were being too much helped by colonial subsidies.  Moralists thought rot had spread through society which required an idealistic purge of bad ideas and people.  The masses felt they were cheated and wanted their fair share of increasing wealth.  And local cults _ some racial, some philosophical, some religious, some cultural _ all thought a quick shake up would put them on top, or at least in a much better position.
  • By 1914, almost all of Europe looked forward to a quick glorious war which would solve all their problems.  Instead, of course, they endured 50 years of unremitting horror, slaughter, and hardship. 
  • I worry about the mood today, which strikes me as increasingly similar to that not so long ago.

Tuesday

  • Even in the midst of vast extinctions, even in one of the most densely populated and ecologically damaged areas of the planet, the complexity and number of shellfish washed up on shore by tide and storm remains amazing.  Clams of several types, oysters, periwinkles, moon, whelk, and others unnamed, in multiple subspecies, too many for me to know nor name.  Infinite piles along certain areas of the coast, renewed constantly.  Nature struggles, but some life remains vibrant.  All strange, all complex, all exotic.
  • For true complexity I need not venture outside my skull.  Consciousness forever eludes analysis.  The physical foundation of consciousness drives biologists to despair from sheer interrelated complexity.  Western culture’s greatest sin has been, continues to be, that the universe is mechanistic and can be somehow understood and controlled piecemeal.  Sometimes it is proper to blink in amazement at where I am and simply accept the exotic immensity of the unknown supporting my familiar.

Wednesday

  • Fractals and Quantum guarantee we never reach the bottom of systems.
  • Chaos assures whatever we think we know is wrong.

Thursday

  • Lurking below a surface daily joy, there seems a great unease in public mood.  Today is fine, many people think, but they are worried about tomorrow.  They are worried that they may control what is around them, but vast unseen currents are sweeping problems their way, most insoluble.  Nostalgia for a presumed simpler past is rampant.
  • Some of the disquiet manifests itself in conspiracy theories _ somebody somewhere must be controlling the world.  Some shows as a distrust of any statement _ if truth is deep and complex then there is no truth, and any lie becomes plausible.  Some, of course, simply translates to a vague anger that at times can be incited to violence.
  • Wishing for this fog of dread uncertainty to be swept away is dangerous.  We may get what we wish, and like many wishes granted we may discover there are consequences far more dire than what we had been experiencing.  Clean revelation and revolution never occur _ there must be blood, often an awful lot of blood _ and the end results never match the glorious visions.
  • I worry about all the cartoon philosophies floating about, all the gossamer juvenile spiritualities clutched by those wanting something simple to believe.   If we are to have a better world, a world of dreams and hope, it must be a complex world, a foggy world, and a world where the unexpected is accepted as part of our bargain of being consciously aware of who we are.

Friday

  • For long eras of Earth, especially when landmasses were connected, there was probably a fairly stable and slow-changing dance of species, gracefully drifting into similar niches everywhere.  Breakup of the continents followed by pulsating ice ages changed that, creating isolated environments which remained in constant flux.  A huge number of species evolved, including one that threatens all the others.
  • Anyone who existed in the twentieth century most likely experienced maximum diversity of life on our planet.  Now globalized bugs, weeds, and other aggressive survivors are crowding out more delicately balanced forms.  Meanwhile industry reworks every spot on the planet _ either directly with human devastation, or indirectly through acidification and water table manipulation.  The coming poverty of nature is unfortunate and ugly, but probably closer to the long term average than we would suspect.  

Saturday

Joe and I stand under the library overhang on a miserable chilly rainswept afternoon.  We watch bent and bundled pedestrians, half with umbrellas, scurrying along trying to avoid puddles.  Frustrated drivers perform the necessary dances to move their vehicles along choked Main Street.  I turn to him, “Feels like the end of an era.”
“How so?”
“Well, you know how you can always tell 1890’s Paris in old photographs and paintings?  All big hats, and horse carts and a certain feel to the light and costumes.”
“Ok…”
“Well, I think this scene is just a temporary.  In fifty years it would be totally different.  Not like the change from the sixties to here, which are very much the same.”
“And you think the new scene will be …. What?”
“Oh, I don’t know.  Just different.  Smaller cars, if cars at all.  People wearing much less bulky clothing.  Maybe clear domes to keep out the rain.”
“Ah, science fiction.  And no darker side?  What about blasted rubble or detritus-strewn streets with no life moving.”
“Except insects _ yeah, I know.  But I’m an optimist.  Assuming good things, I still think we are at the end of an era in all kinds of ways, some visual, some social, some we don’t have any idea about.”
“Well, won’t affect us,” says Joe.
“True, true.  I need to return these books.  See you in a while….”

The lobby is refreshingly warm and happily quiet.

Sunday

We assume that things will change
Assume that much remains the same
We hope for better finer days
While treasuring our ancient ways
We fight to stay just where we stand
Faith as solid as the land
We drift and paddle on time’s flow
Moving, not sure where we go
Hardly matters, here or there,

We’re insubstantial as the air.  

Exotic Locals

Monday

  • My parents loved Bing Crosby, so I grew up listening to his cover of “Faraway places with strange sounding names.”  It referenced Spain, and Siam, and a general wanderlust to be somewhere else.  Probably coincidentally, I have visited and lived in many places during my life.  By no means an inveterate traveler, but certainly not someone who always stayed in his native neighborhood forever.
  • As I grow older, definitions change, a phenomenon I note not just in myself but in my peers.  For many of us, a mile or more from our houses has suddenly become “faraway places.”  We like our comforts, we enjoy the familiar, we get just a little peevish when we have to give them up for more than a few hours.  It is not that we are scared of travel, and even do it relatively often, but only if we can wrap a good deal of our usual environment around us like protective bubble wrap.
  • Some days, even getting out of the house and walking a few blocks to the harbor can seem like heading for a faraway place.  Perhaps my memory dims, but each moment seems new, each view seems fresh, many things I notice I have rarely seen before.  I guess I should feel sad at my atrophying senses, but I am grateful that I can increasingly perceive that what others see as boringly normal I regard as exotic.
  • There is happiness in sculpting local into distant.  Just as we never cross the same river twice, we never truly view the same scenery.  Waves, mists, leaves, clouds, animals _ always different.  The trick is to focus on the subtle and render it sublime.  Not unlike the purpose of art.  

Tuesday

  • Tides go in and out, predictable with Newtonian mathematics and no requirement to understand Einstein.  Even so, they are complex, and vary with barometric pressure almost as much as with sheer gravity.  It is always a shock to those who live by the sea to visit a lake and see docks built just above water level.  The reward, of course, is the periodic exposure of mud, sand, shells, and detritus, not to mention the antics of fiddler crabs and squirting clams.  In winter, all the activity is less apparent, but it is there anyway.
  • As I walk each day, I try to be as aware of the moon as of the weather.  Some spring tides are incredibly low and high, but sometimes planets and storms align and we have super slosh over the low highways.  Obviously, the level becomes a bit higher each year, in spite of the claims of those who screech we cannot know.  I imagine the fish, crabs, and clams hardly notice the tides _ it’s people who are the real enemies.

Wednesday

  •  “The farther you go, the less you know.”
  • To be aware, you need to stare.

Thursday

  • If we visit somewhere just once, it is frozen in our minds for all time, with its good and bad, often shading to good because of our usual glow of nostalgia on, say, a vacation.  Locations closer to home evolve rapidly, but we hardly notice unless we make an effort to remember how things were.
  • For example, just in our harbor, I have seen a huge barge delivering oil to large tanks,  red shacks decaying picturesquely on a pier,  lobstermen setting out and storing traps each winter, a lovely larch tree shedding needles each autumn.  All gone, like much else, although this has fortunately been an area all but frozen in time.  That too is changing, as old people die and move, their house torn away, and huge monstrosities built on tiny lots.  An awful lot of big old trees are being trimmed severely or cut down completely _ none of the new people want their harbor view obscured by branches and leaves, even though this clearing ruins landscapes.
  • But on a daily basis, I have no trouble.  What is more shocking _ and sometimes prevents me from even desiring a new trip _ are the immense changes where I have not viewed them since my long ago visit.  Most of them, in my opinion, are for the worse.  Farms gone, open fields turned to asphalt, all the normal complaints.  Well, in all honesty, some of those memories bright in my mind are from over half a century ago.    The world moves on, whether I want to ride along or not.

Friday

  • Chinese mountain landscapes rarely include pictures of birds, although somehow they always give the idea of being painted from a flying perspective.  On the other hand, their close studies of birds can be magnificent.  Waterfowl around here of the common type _ ospreys, gulls, several types of ducks, cormorants, swans and of course geese galore.  In the summer terns and egrets liven the place up.  Crows are hardly considered waterfowl, but they often crash the shoreline party.
  • I rarely photograph them.  I’m not much of a wildlife photographer, even if I had proper equipment, which I don’t.  So by accident and laziness my photos sometimes have some of the elements of brush drawings.  

Saturday

Sun and wind take a break from beaming and blowing.  “How’s it going, Wind?” asks Sun.  “Ready for another contest.”
“Oh, not that tired old thing with getting a traveler to take off his coat,” replies Wind.  “And the last time we tried to get them out of their automobile nothing worked.  They seem to just ignore us.”
“We could team up, I guess,” says Sun hopefully.  “You know we have a good combination in drying out crop lands.  That always gets them stirred up.”
“Or freezing the oceans and rivers solid …” remarks Wind.
“I don’t know,” notes Sun dubiously.  “Those pesky devils seem to be doing something to the planet.  Not easy to chill it down enough any more.”
“They sure annoy me with those itchy scratchy things they keep flying through me.”
“Oh, yeah,” Sun agrees.  “They’re even starting to throw stuff at me.”
“Even big storms don’t do what they used to …”
“Too clever for their own good.”
“Well,” declares Wind, “just a little more clever and they’ll leave the planet to us.  I’ll miss them sometimes.”
“Not me.  Oops, there’s another sunspot I have to take care of.  Later….”

“Woosh!”

Sunday

Unusual views
Water, hills, houses, sky
Overflowed people
Home

Weird as anywhere

My Selfish Tao

Monday

  • “The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.”
  • It’s odd for a religious book to declare at the beginning that the words which follow can be ignored.  Most religions have holy script directly dictated from gods, through visions, dreams, magical tablets, trances, ancient stories _ and it is assumed that such holy writings are exact and perfect transcriptions.  But the fact is words can never exactly describe experience _ love, happiness, fire, a tree.
  • Our intelligence is centered on discovering useful patterns, whether deciphering speech out of sounds, or guessing at what our vision glimpses, or connecting cause and effect over time.  Naturally we have a “religious impulse” that seeks the pattern of our lives, of our meaning, of our future.  People usually find something to believe in _ and honest ones understand that the true core of faith cannot be described in words.
  • The Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu continues, improbably, with more words. Its very nature encourages one to make their own protestant version.  I would call it a kind of selfish Tao, something only useful for me, my own interpretation of words translated from ideograms translated from an old man’s wisdom.  What I tell you I believe is not the eternal what I believe.
  • Over the years, spelling has changed.  I hold fast to my own printed relics which have ancient meaning for me.  Spelling matters even less than words, and words do not matter at all.  Take Yin and Yang, the clash of dualities orbiting the core of the Tao.  I have also come to the belief that the universe is constructed of tensions such as gravity vs. momentum.  The words are different. 
  • But I like the selfish Tao.  It is not about telling anyone what to do to satisfy the gods.  It is about living in a useful and common-sense manner.  It is very much about meditating on life, and being mindful of all that is around us, and trying to find our place in the world without disturbing the center of that natural harmony too much.
Tuesday

  • Traditional Chinese wall paintings are often heavily influenced by traditions of the Tao.  In them, mountains and forests rest peacefully in mists, as scholars wander paths or sip wine in pavilions, while here or there a boat or deer accent the landscape.  It’s a benign world, devoid of grizzly bears and snakes, filled with the awesome but tamed power of nature.  Quiet contemplation is the goal. 
  • Until recently, Western painting was far more about individual people and religious or historical mythology, filled with blood and struggle.  I appreciate these various viewpoints.  I continue to see scholars in mountains as older satisfied folks, and I regard struggle as a proper pastime for youth.  Elders thrashing constantly, youth indolently bored, are both perversions of biological destiny.

Wednesday

  • Some Taoists desperately sought immortality.
  • Unaware, we experience eternity each moment.

Thursday

  • Religion is one of the strangest human impulses, at least in its manifestations of trying to gain mind control over others.  It is relatively easy to understand and even justify people who fight because they want or need what other people have.  Introspection reveals that each of us might seek personal power or unleash anger against others.  But to struggle bitterly, even to the death, to force an abstract and unknowable philosophy on everyone around us?  That is incomprehensible to a sane logical mind.
  • The clearest justification given is that religion provides social glue, making tribal members conform to normal and acceptable standards.  Yet there are societies which do not need the strong whiff of authoritarian supernaturalism to thrive. 
  • I prefer my own version of contemplations such as the Tao, simply because it does not contain a lot of odd rules and strictures.  It is good to understand I am a small part of something greater, good to be advised to study the deeper harmonies of the world, good to be encouraged to seek what is right.  I accept all that, and mix in whatever else I may desire. 
  • But I would never force you to accept what I think in this nebulous realm.  I resent all those who try to do that to me.  I don’t care if they are sincere, or charlatans, or worse.  If a god has not spoken to me directly, I do not particularly want to hear what someone else’s god thinks I should do.

Friday

  • Wandering the many tame woods and meadows of local parks always presents stunning vistas, unique close ups, and strange juxtapositions.   A feast for the eyes, relaxation for the body, enchantment for the soul _ even without pavilions in which to rest or a servant carrying plum wine and writing materials.  Utilizing and protecting these treasures has fortunately become a priority of nearly everyone.
  • When strolling about, I find myself in one of three moods _ careful examination of things I may not have noticed before; mindless soothing surroundings as I follow internal trails of thoughts; or a passive but enriching meditation which I only with difficulty later recall.  All are important to me in their own way; all relate to my conception of the Tao.
  • My Tao concentrates on similar aspects of being:  The Universe is inf
    inite and has been around a long time and has done quite well without me.  I should understand interrelated patterns of the whole before attempting to master specialized details, no matter what I am trying to do.  And I should always be consciously attempting to think out of the box and not take my ancient preconceptions for granted.  It is a wonderful privilege to be alive and conscious _ no matter what, I should appreciate everything.

Saturday

Well I came upon a Chinese monk, he was walking along a horse trail
When I asked him where he was going this he told me ….
“I’ve been asleep some thousands years, discouraged at the ways of man, and I hoped to find relief in this new century.”
“Ah,” I understood.  “Master Lao Tzu, this is a smartphone.  I can show you …”  But he needed no instruction, of course.  He perched on a cold bench in deserted Caumsett, cruising the internet for an hour or more, with not a sound. 
Finally he looked up, sadly discouraged.  “I see it is no better, in spite of your many advances into the world of things.  People still kill, still fight, still hate and still waste their lives in ignorance.”
“But we have electricity, scientific understandings, biological wonders, grand entertainments.”
“All true,” he replied.  “Yet I find this park a more refreshing place than your entire electronic world, this tree more real and yet even now not contemplated correctly.”
“So you will go to sleep more thousands of years?”

“Not at all,” he murmured.  “It appears that not long from now there will be not much of a world to return to later.  I shall wander and experience as I can, and treasure these memories for the burden of my coming eternity.”

Sunday

Shall I compare Tao to a winter’s night?
It rests more quiet, more to contemplate.
Purest velvet pricked with points of light
Draining cares and worries about fate.
Sometimes too wild our will to action cries
And oft we helpless wrestle with despair
As all around iced shards of failure lie
Wrecked by chance, or from mishandled dare
But Tao drifts healing into all and out
Always was, is now, and ere shall be
Nor can it fail so long as mind’s about
Beyond the reach of time or what we see
I feel alone, bewildered, small,

But Tao insists, a part of all.

Janus

Monday

  • According to Wikipedia: in ancient Roman religion and myth, Janus is the god of beginnings, gates, transitions, time, doorways, passages, and endings. He is usually depicted as having two faces, since he looks to the future and to the past. It is conventionally thought that the month of January is named for Janus.
  • Janus presided over the beginning and ending of conflict, and hence war and peace. The doors of his temple were open in time of war, and closed to mark the peace. As a god of transitions, he had functions pertaining to birth and to journeys and exchange, and he was concerned with travelling, trading and shipping.
  • As we are arrived at moments of great transitions, not to mention issues of war, peace, and trade, perhaps we should revive some reverence for the old guy.  In particular, how the past must be faced equally with the future to understand change.
  • An interesting fellow.  What were his powers?  I’m not sure what you’d pray to him for.  I don’t recall any ancient myths in which he was involved even peripherally.  He is one of the few Roman gods which had no Greek counterpart, and I suspect few if any of the regions conquered by the legions contained an equivalent within their own pantheons. 
  • Well, we are each our own Janus.  We are only in the moment, filled with amazement beyond comprehension,  but we simultaneously recall massive threads from the past, and wide projections of possible futures.  We live in that very transition as time flows around us, or we flow through it.  So perhaps we should reconstruct Janus as our god of time, plop him into the books alongside Einstein, and compose a few stories.
  • In these interesting times, I doubt it would hurt to do so.

Tuesday

  • To study nature is usually to be concerned with life.  The environment which contains the theater of the living also includes the land itself.  Understanding the changes in the land over time it is possible to develop a deeper appreciation of what it now is or may be.  This park, for example, was once primal forest with access to immense food in the bay, sheltered from the north wind, watered by nearby clear streams, a perfect home for native Americans.  Then it was cleared and houses constructed and a pottery works dug into clay pits up the hill, next to the busy town docks.  Over a century ago, it became a pleasant park from which to picnic or bathe at the northern terminus of the cross-island trolley.  Once a whale beached here, and had to be cut and carted away at great expense.
  • Right now I walk to find it decaying, slightly sad, underutilized, all but forgotten.  During my thirty years residence, large trees have died and been cut down, docks have fallen to rot, bulkheads have cracked,  and pavilion upkeep neglected.  Through all that, living nature has changed and adapted, tiny wildflowers managing to fill straggling grass, pokeweed thick along the boatyard buildings, ubiquitous ragweed near the shore.  All that, and surely much I do not know, in less than four hundred years.  My mistake is always to see something interesting, and because I see it now, assume that it has always been so.  

Wednesday

  • “Those who do not study the past are doomed to repeat it.”
  • Those who do study the past are doomed anyway.

Thursday

  • Life is active transition, seeking to perpetuate itself from the past to the future through this present.  It differs from rocks and other elements only in being locally anti-entropic _ building complexity instead of decaying into a lower state, as normal matter always does.  We have refined transition into exquisite beauty, and are aware of past and present and not only real but possible futures and not only the actual but the imagined.
  • Some transitions are slow and hardly noticed as they pass.  I wonder at the loss of my years _ when did my aging occur?  As the days passed, each was almost identical, but suddenly I look back and all has become strange and weird.  Trees are there as always,the sky.  Yet the sky is more filled with smoke, some favorite old trees are gone, some new ones have come from nowhere.  I am a traveler from a remembered past, a stranger in this strange land.  And I never saw it coming.
  • Other transitions are more sudden.  The birth of a child, the onset of an affliction, all the many local shocks in life, and of course the cultural effects of grand players and events.  Those we are well aware of as they break our lives into parts, and we struggle to survive and recover. 
  • Through it all, I suppose Janus smiles.  Or maybe he sighs.  Who can tell, with a god?  I always felt that, with the exception of the classic Greeks, being a god was a constrained, boring, and sad existence.  You don’t get to p
    lay much, as a typical god.  You are responsible for right, and justice, and making the world run the way the world runs.  At the beck and call of priests and rituals for all sorts of stupid stuff.  Never allowed to go beyond your special area of expertise.  Kind of like a perpetual retail clerk, keeping the universe ready for the human customers.
  • This year, I am afraid I have spent too much time looking back, not enough forward.  As always, the drumroll of each day will call me into the present, where I actually belong.  I am my own Janus, and thankfully I do have the ability to laugh and smile and enjoy the whole shebang.

Friday

  • Fog settles as a perfect metaphor for time.  Farther away in past or future, one can make out nothing even if certain of surroundings.  It is prone to sudden clearing when nearby objects startlingly materialize, and to random thickening when all sense dulls.  Sounds are muffled, directions lost, indistinct forms cause randomly incorrect interpretations.  Fog may suddenly vanish, or become mist, drizzle or heavy rain.  And although a secure poet might find it magical, most travelers and sailors are properly terrified by its onset.
  • Unless caught on a highway, I tend more to poetry, finding fog a refreshing change from crystal vistas and clear thinking.  As I’ve aged, I’ve come to feel the same way about time itself.  Knowing less about the past and nothing about the future no longer bothers me, as long as I am conscious of this present.  Perhaps I feel less a traveler than in my frantic long ago youth.

Saturday

Joan is carefully wrapping and packing the last of the Christmas decorations in the living room, for another year of storage somewhere in the garage.  She sighs as she takes yet another candle and places it into a labeled box.  “It’s so sad,” she notes, “that these are up for such a short time.”
“Well, I suppose,” I reply, “but after all, just having them out for a little while is what makes the end of the year so special.”
“I love Christmas,” she continues, ignoring me, “but it makes me sad too.  My parents and brother no longer with us, and all the family scattered.  It’s not like when we used to have the family parties when the kids were little.”
“I think that remembering is part of the magic,” I muse.  “Every decoration you have out here is attached to some event in the past.  And we still have the boys visiting and reinforcing our own family.  And the new baby, of course.  Someday they will be doing the same thing you are.”
“I guess,” she says half-heartedly.  “I just wish it was all like it once was.”
“The past lives in our thoughts,” I try to console her.  “And this helps us mark the transition to what we hope will be a wonderful future for our children.  That’s what makes it all special.”

She doesn’t answer, and goes to take down another glittery ball from the mantle.

Sunday

We think time flows, but we are wrong
Through frozen space, we sail along
Our consciousness reviews this realm
Facing backwards at the helm
We love, remember, laugh to be
Cosmic senses overwhelmed
By life’s infinity of song

Unfit to know reality