THINGS THAT COME
Inasmuch as this website has a 'blog', I guess perforce, this might be it. After the first year or so, I decreased the tendency to write and sort by topic, and moved on to a greater tendency to simply enter things chronologically. This was as much a function of getting tired of trying to figure out where they 'fit'- sometimes they just WERE- hence the title 'Things that come'.
This section contains a variety of material; writings that usually start with an experience or a concept. Once a thing is 'seen', it is as if that triggers a crystallization of perception or an attendant thought process. Sometimes it's fast- nearly instantaneous; sometimes quite slow; days, months, or years. These writings may later be moved to other areas on the website.
1. The Road 12/10/11
The toys are crying. It is the Christmas season. The shelves are loaded with goods manufactured in a frantic attempt to pump life and 'growth' into the economy, in this world of 7 billion people.
The shoppers look tired and pale, pinched with the cold and the reality of economic depression. And the toys are crying.
We have to get this right. Trees are dying by the roadside as fleets of trucks pound on, carrying mountains of sad goods to the sad people. We have to get this right before it's too late.
2. The primates singing in the trees
In mid- or late winter 2011, I experienced something quite remarkable. It was a snowy day. The temperature was probably about 25*, with a light breeze, and the snow was falling fairly rapidly- enough to kiss your face persistently as you walked through it. The sky was not lowering, but quite light.
I had been down in the barn, just having finished feeding the cattle. I leaned on the barn gate to watch the snow for a while, then started walking up the hill toward the house.
As I walked through the falling snow, I realized my heart and spirit were just reveling in the beauty. I can't always feel that way with snow plastering the side of my face, but sometimes.
When I was almost back to the house, I stopped and looked around me. I had just realized that the trees around me were full of songbirds, and they were all singing. It hadn't been obvious while I was moving, because of the sound of my walking. But when I stopped, I could hear the birdsong. It was multiple different species; the normal winter birds,but possibly also a few not usually seen til a little later in the year.
They didn't sound miserable, hungry, or upset. Birds suffering from the weather don't generally sing. They were singing the feeling that I was experiencing. It was truly unbelievable, a golden experience.
It was later that I came upon the visualization of our ancestors, the primates, in the trees. And they were singing. In the trees, on the Savannah, in Africa. Primates, singing in the trees.
As with so many things, I have no proof, only questions. At what point were we tribal or communal? At what point did we start to vocalize? At what point did we sing? A what point did we sing as a group? At what point did we leave the trees?
I don't understand it, but I can 'see' it. There they are, in my mind's eye, in the golden light, probably in the evening, singing a farewell to the sun. It rings true to my heart.
This section contains a variety of material; writings that usually start with an experience or a concept. Once a thing is 'seen', it is as if that triggers a crystallization of perception or an attendant thought process. Sometimes it's fast- nearly instantaneous; sometimes quite slow; days, months, or years. These writings may later be moved to other areas on the website.
1. The Road 12/10/11
The toys are crying. It is the Christmas season. The shelves are loaded with goods manufactured in a frantic attempt to pump life and 'growth' into the economy, in this world of 7 billion people.
The shoppers look tired and pale, pinched with the cold and the reality of economic depression. And the toys are crying.
We have to get this right. Trees are dying by the roadside as fleets of trucks pound on, carrying mountains of sad goods to the sad people. We have to get this right before it's too late.
2. The primates singing in the trees
In mid- or late winter 2011, I experienced something quite remarkable. It was a snowy day. The temperature was probably about 25*, with a light breeze, and the snow was falling fairly rapidly- enough to kiss your face persistently as you walked through it. The sky was not lowering, but quite light.
I had been down in the barn, just having finished feeding the cattle. I leaned on the barn gate to watch the snow for a while, then started walking up the hill toward the house.
As I walked through the falling snow, I realized my heart and spirit were just reveling in the beauty. I can't always feel that way with snow plastering the side of my face, but sometimes.
When I was almost back to the house, I stopped and looked around me. I had just realized that the trees around me were full of songbirds, and they were all singing. It hadn't been obvious while I was moving, because of the sound of my walking. But when I stopped, I could hear the birdsong. It was multiple different species; the normal winter birds,but possibly also a few not usually seen til a little later in the year.
They didn't sound miserable, hungry, or upset. Birds suffering from the weather don't generally sing. They were singing the feeling that I was experiencing. It was truly unbelievable, a golden experience.
It was later that I came upon the visualization of our ancestors, the primates, in the trees. And they were singing. In the trees, on the Savannah, in Africa. Primates, singing in the trees.
As with so many things, I have no proof, only questions. At what point were we tribal or communal? At what point did we start to vocalize? At what point did we sing? A what point did we sing as a group? At what point did we leave the trees?
I don't understand it, but I can 'see' it. There they are, in my mind's eye, in the golden light, probably in the evening, singing a farewell to the sun. It rings true to my heart.
3. The water is unquiet,
and seethes
Whitecaps torn off by the wind.
Brave birds on the wing
move steadily toward the north
Not deviating, nor taking wing stroke.
They ride the wind.
My feelings look at the ocean's surface.
But beneath, my mind grapples with the knowledge
of the numbing cold and the killing power
I know is there.
So with all things;
feelings on top, reality underneath.
Reality harder,
learned through pain and battles.
(early 1999)
and seethes
Whitecaps torn off by the wind.
Brave birds on the wing
move steadily toward the north
Not deviating, nor taking wing stroke.
They ride the wind.
My feelings look at the ocean's surface.
But beneath, my mind grapples with the knowledge
of the numbing cold and the killing power
I know is there.
So with all things;
feelings on top, reality underneath.
Reality harder,
learned through pain and battles.
(early 1999)
4. Every Raindrop is a Blessing (in process)
5. You are charged with the task of harvesting the sunshine (in process)
6 Emotions
It is extraordinary how strongly and deeply emotions can sweep, sometimes. This evening I was considering my nephew's response to reading this website ('what is this stuff?'). I asked myself the same question. The memory occurred to me, of a professor of English I had during my undergraduate years at Cornell University, in about 1972. I had encountered him a second time, in 1990, at a Cornell Adult university class on journal keeping. It was late when I decided to search, but I went back online, and tried to look the gentleman up. I couldn't find him, remembering only the last name, tentatively (Mcmillan), and after 20 minutes of searching, came to the conclusion that he was retired- probably almost 80 by now- even though it seemed like 'only yesterday', As I worked with him in class in 1990, I remember, he encouraged me to find my own voice.
That is what I am doing now. Finding my own voice. And with a sweep of emotion that felt almost global, i remembered so, so many teachers who had worked with me, and with other students, through the years, giving of their time and insights so that we could learn and grow. And of course, I am crying, remembering, because I want to go back and talk to them. And thank them again, for all they did for us. It didn't seem so important back then, but it does now.
Thank you. Thank you all.
That is what I am doing now. Finding my own voice. And with a sweep of emotion that felt almost global, i remembered so, so many teachers who had worked with me, and with other students, through the years, giving of their time and insights so that we could learn and grow. And of course, I am crying, remembering, because I want to go back and talk to them. And thank them again, for all they did for us. It didn't seem so important back then, but it does now.
Thank you. Thank you all.
7. Why Women Invented Sex
I hasten to state that this is not (really) a true story. It is what comes of thinking while gaming.
Once upon a time there was a little girl. She lived in a busy household with many brothers and sisters, before the time of personal computers. One of the many things her mother taught her (good housekeeping not being among them) was how to play cards. They played with each other (go fish, remember, and many other games) as well as solitaire.
Came the time, many years later, when the little girl was grown, and personal computers were a commonplace thing. Card games had not disappeared, but could now also be played on the computer.
In her off times, the no-longer-little girl, now with gray hair, grandchildren, and being a veteran of 2 marriages, would still play cards. One such game was ‘spider solitaire’. In this game, the object was to end up with the many suits of cards piled up, each with the King on the bottom and all the rest piled on top.
Through her long interactions with men, the now-woman had enough battle scars to be aware of the sense of purported ‘superiority’ that brings men (still basically little boys) to style themselves ‘king’.
And it was a source of mild humor to her, as she got close to winning the game, to pile everyone else on top of the queen and then to move up and jump on the king, saddling him, as it were, with the immediate burden of a full family without any of the benefits of courtship or earlier interaction.
She came to this amusement by default, after having dealt with 2 marriages and 2 husbands who did not want children. She had lost many babies, but at least had 1 living child, and finally a grandchild as well, despite the attitude of the men. Her loving heart was appalled by their coldness and indifference to the biological, emotional and spiritual need for children. She could not see a man as a helpmate if he had no sense of this need.
So the amusement was a poor thing compared to the full life that could have been, had either man truly loved, honored or cherished her as they had promised to do. But amusement it was.
After years of laughing when the queen with full retinue would land on the king, she finally got to feel kind of sorry for the guy, this mythical king. After all, he was just standing on the riverbank, minding his own business, fishing, when-Boom! Full family attack. Where’s the fun in that?
And she thought of the queen lying in wait, and how such a queen might have decided that there should be some fun for the man. And- Bang- she saw the queen thinking up sex.
I mean, the animals procreate, and other mammals have the rut- but what other species is not only so self-engaged as to invent monarchy, war, and gender bias, but also to be so obsessed with sex as to invent porn, human trafficking, and marriage?
So she sees the queen- who just wants to get some help raising her brood- coming up with this method to make the experience palatable and alluring for her quarry.
See, men do the same thing in their turn, for the fish, when they tie flies. But women aren’t trying to eat men, they just want their babies to live.
The thing got out of hand when men decided they were better than women and invented religion to keep the upper hand.
No wonder they call the game ‘spider solitaire’.
Once upon a time there was a little girl. She lived in a busy household with many brothers and sisters, before the time of personal computers. One of the many things her mother taught her (good housekeeping not being among them) was how to play cards. They played with each other (go fish, remember, and many other games) as well as solitaire.
Came the time, many years later, when the little girl was grown, and personal computers were a commonplace thing. Card games had not disappeared, but could now also be played on the computer.
In her off times, the no-longer-little girl, now with gray hair, grandchildren, and being a veteran of 2 marriages, would still play cards. One such game was ‘spider solitaire’. In this game, the object was to end up with the many suits of cards piled up, each with the King on the bottom and all the rest piled on top.
Through her long interactions with men, the now-woman had enough battle scars to be aware of the sense of purported ‘superiority’ that brings men (still basically little boys) to style themselves ‘king’.
And it was a source of mild humor to her, as she got close to winning the game, to pile everyone else on top of the queen and then to move up and jump on the king, saddling him, as it were, with the immediate burden of a full family without any of the benefits of courtship or earlier interaction.
She came to this amusement by default, after having dealt with 2 marriages and 2 husbands who did not want children. She had lost many babies, but at least had 1 living child, and finally a grandchild as well, despite the attitude of the men. Her loving heart was appalled by their coldness and indifference to the biological, emotional and spiritual need for children. She could not see a man as a helpmate if he had no sense of this need.
So the amusement was a poor thing compared to the full life that could have been, had either man truly loved, honored or cherished her as they had promised to do. But amusement it was.
After years of laughing when the queen with full retinue would land on the king, she finally got to feel kind of sorry for the guy, this mythical king. After all, he was just standing on the riverbank, minding his own business, fishing, when-Boom! Full family attack. Where’s the fun in that?
And she thought of the queen lying in wait, and how such a queen might have decided that there should be some fun for the man. And- Bang- she saw the queen thinking up sex.
I mean, the animals procreate, and other mammals have the rut- but what other species is not only so self-engaged as to invent monarchy, war, and gender bias, but also to be so obsessed with sex as to invent porn, human trafficking, and marriage?
So she sees the queen- who just wants to get some help raising her brood- coming up with this method to make the experience palatable and alluring for her quarry.
See, men do the same thing in their turn, for the fish, when they tie flies. But women aren’t trying to eat men, they just want their babies to live.
The thing got out of hand when men decided they were better than women and invented religion to keep the upper hand.
No wonder they call the game ‘spider solitaire’.