A question that came to me recently. Where do you think you would be if you hadn’t been born? If I wasn’t here where would I be or would I even “be?” (My idle mind is a very dangerous place 😉)
The meaning of life? It seems to me that we are making it up as we go along.
For simplicity’s sake, Instead of the convoluted (at least to me) concept of leap year and February having 28 days except for once every four years, why didn’t the powers that be just give February a day from January and another from March? Then every month would have at least 30 days? That way I wouldn’t have to try to remember what comes after the “30 days has September, April, June, and November, and all the rest have 31, except for February…….” (I never did memorize the last part)
It’s interesting to me when I hear people suggest that we have domesticated our pets. As I see it they have domesticated us. They take a walk when they want to (their cries are not to be ignored, if they are they will just drop it when they need to, wherever they want to); pee when they are so inclined, poop as they will. And, if we are ethical ‘owners,’ we pick up their poop. They watch us do that and I swear I see them smiling. Daily. I think they say to themselves, “and these humans talk of domesticating us…”and grin. And cats? Well, you know that story.
Even more effective domesticators are children. More than that, grandchildren. Our sense of wildness and living our wild (verb, not a noun) for the most part becomes totally domesticated.
I had the thought the other day that everything I am ‘looking for’, I already have. Why do I keep looking outside of myself? Either I don’t know that, or I don’t know it is there, or I haven’t looked, or I’ve forgotten where I put it.
At least once a week, I get a message from some source that we can learn so much about life by listening to and learning from trees. It’s interesting that I hear no contrary arguments, such as “trees can’t teach us one dang thing about life.” I find comfort in that.
Denial is like protein in my diet, without the right amount we are in trouble, too much of it and we can die (and take others with us).
If you were raised with wolves you wouldn’t learn to walk not because you couldn’t, but because you didn’t see it happen. If I look closely at those we consider monsters, we see folks raised, nominally, by humans, in an environment that doesn’t support being human.
When I reach out to someone and take the rare risk of sharing the very essence of my human experience and I get no response, I feel the deep painful sting of a hornet. I either build up an immunity to the future stings, cover myself with protective clothing, or avoid the area where the hornets dwell. Maybe I do all three; maybe none of the above. Point is I have choices as to whether it happens again.
I’ve lately said “adequate,” when asked how I am doing. That often elicits an “Oh, I am so sorry.” For overachievers (or over- strivers at least) they may see that as a negative thing. “Adequate,” as I see it, is progress in the right direction.
I was reminded the other day that doing something that is the opposite of wrong, isn’t necessarily right. It can end up being just a different kind of wrong, well-meaning perhaps, but still ending in tragedy.