I step outside to have a cigarette at 1:30 in the morning and instantly begin to shiver. After the 5.75 minutes it takes to smoke in cold weather I am hit with the amazement of modern humainty.
It hits me that we learn to adapt so quickly. I know it isn't this cold in Portland, or San Francisco, or other places peices of my heart are left behind, but yet, it seems somewhat commonplace. I don't have the luxury of a finer climate at this point at 1:30AM, therefore that place ceases to exist. Maybe it true, 'what's bred in the bone will not out in the flesh' or maybe I am completely misinterpreting literature, as usual.
Somehow we are supposed to just live our lives traveling from one to another many stanges of conciousness. That might sound new-age to you, so let me put it another way.
15 minutes ago, I was finishing the last couple of pages of a chapter of John Irving's A Prayer For Owen Meany. In the not-so-distant background was the sound of Teletubies and their bizarre adventures. Then I stepped outside and was reminded that I am not from here, this is not my home and yet I live here and I live in much the same way I did before I lived here.
Okay, maybe I didn't make my point, let me stick it to you this way: we have an amazing ability, gift, curse to be able to block things out that happen. They may effect us, but their effect is not visible to the human eye and therefore not significant in our culture.
I know, I'm still not getting there...I probably never will because a big piece of my conciousness is about not saying too much. I don't know where it comes from: nature, nuture, a combination of neither or both, but it is here, within me.
One at a time we just get through, the things that need getting through. But we don't win awards or earn degrees for that. While we are out "in the world" winning degrees and earning awards, we lose site of all the other shit that "gets in the way". It's unexplained and yet, expected.
It is one thing to be vague, another to be cleaver and an entirely different beast to be mysterious. And so I sit in mystery, in awe of humanity.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment