I’m a bit pensive today…. This may be due to the subject matter that occupied my thoughts yesterday evening, a series of old impressions and feelings about my family, whom I dearly love, as long as it is from a distance….. No, actually, I do love them, such as they all are, for they are legion…. I think if possible, my mom would have produced an entire baseball team, rather than merely a basketball squad…. Though it is hard to think about, for a son, or a daughter, my parents MUST have enjoyed the physical aspects of marriage, and more than just a little bit, for they certainly “issued forth” with more than their share of children; there were seven of us, in total, though two of us died soon after birth (my long-lost, unknown, but always loved brother Scott, and sister Emily, both of whom died within hours of their birth, sometime during WWII, while my father was overseas, fighting in the Pacific theater…..)
It’s strange, actually, to sit here in tears, crying for two people I never got to know, but, I guess I’m just a closet softie. If both of the babies had lived, life would have been very different for me… It’s quite possible that, instead of being the middle child of five, I would have been the baby of the brood, with two older brothers, and two older sisters to torment me unmercifully, as did I and my siblings for my youngest brother…. Perhaps I’d have been the fifth of seven, as it did turn out, but, that, too, would have made me a different person than I am…. As middle child, the pressure is to survive the eldest siblings machinations, while still finding ways to make my younger siblings’ lives miserable… It’s what brothers are for, you know…
Actually, I always thought growing up in the middle gave me an advantage, that of learning to develop the use of brains over brawn…. Since I wasn’t big enough to fend off the older siblings, I had to learn fast, and develop my mental flexibility, to be able to outguess them consistently… That wasn’t hard with my older sister, but, my brother was pretty smart himself, and gave me some fits before I figured out how to manipulate him… You see, the middle child is in a difficult position… If I fought with my older sibs, I suffered pain, from their retaliation…. If I fought with the younger ones, the risk came from the possible intervention of my parents, who always tended to side with the underdog, ( always the younger of anyone involved in such altercations…) So, you see, we middle children learn to develop a larger, more flexible set of mental and physical skills than do our siblings, just to keep our sanity in the dog-eat-dog world of large family dynamics….
What occurred to me last night was the following query, to wit: had Scott and Emily survived, would I have been the same person I turned out to be? Since it is, relatively, a moot point, (it didn’t happen, after all….), it enters the realm of unwarranted, and therefore useless, speculation, at best…. In other words, a waste of time, for the most part…. I don’t regard the time I spent on this as wasted, however…. I did find out a few things about myself I hadn’t known…. such as, I really do miss them, even though I never knew them… I think I would have enjoyed having an older sister named Emily, especially given my predilection for the poetry of Miss Dickinson….. and who wouldn’t have enjoyed a brother named Scott, who would, perhaps, have been my champion, my protector against my other older brother, Tim, who picked on me without mercy, as was his right and duty, and fought with me incessantly..
I guess it goes to show that growing up in a large family has its ups, and downs, and advantages versus disadvantages; it seems to me, though, to have been well worth it, if only for the socialization and interpersonal skills it develops in those children, from living in a small copy of society, with all its different pressures and dynamics. Kids from smaller families, and only children, don’t get that same inundation in relationships, or the immersion in a melting pot of different personalities, thereby learning to deal with that issue, before having to do so out in the real world, outside the home, where one is, to a certain extent, protected from the vagaries of reality….
Okay, pensiveness fulfilled, and thus, easily dismissed… Though it isn’t my usual intro, it seems to have worked fairly well to break the ice for the day, with a good five paragraphs of material, all of which, though a bit personal, and irrelevant to much out in the BBR, or Reality at Large, nonetheless fulfills all legal requirements, and fills up the necessary space at the top of the page….
Shall we Pearl?….
When stars are in the quiet skies,
Then most I pine for thee;
Bend on me then thy tender eyes,
As stars look on the sea.
– Edward Bulwer Lytton (1805-1873) — When Stars are in the quiet Skies
Hmm… see, pensive…. Onward, ever on, he cried!….
In cruising around yesterday, I came across some older poems of mine, first written back in 2011, I think, & rediscovered in August of this year… This one is perhaps my favorite of those I found, as well as one of my all-around best efforts…. Well, I like it, anyway, and I hope you do as well….
In the most patient moments of rationality
kindness flows smoothly in a special milieu,
fallow thoughts speed first from equality
giving no anxious fever, nor anger to eschew.
Indignant mothers and step-sons in-law
fade simply from brilliant to grey,
intoning ritual dogma, fresh, avid, and raw,
falling, falling, in massive pastoral disarray.
Safety lives not, save brightly in ignorant bliss,
it follows us all, silent and infinitely frail,
foremost too often, soft as a virgin kiss,
alive, always eager, willing, and pale.
Intimate knowledge finds only the bold few
with courage and virtue to gift, unbidden.
No solemn royal version may pass in review,
true love for man, never to remain unhidden.
Sweet feathers of Emily’s hope uplift,
calm, drowsy episodes bursting with light,
With final glad cries we set ourselves adrift,
swimming in deep oceans of natural delight.
When sorrow is banished, in ages yet to come,
roots solidly anchored, cold and remote,
Ample supplies of kindness sit silent and dumb,
as the old stranger shrugs on his faded coat.
Dreaming, then, I wait with shadows in the night
aspiring to inspire, a message from the muse’s heart
Never forgotten images, framed in color bright,
tempt me only, grieving, steeped in serenity’s arcane art.
~~ gigoid ~~
There are times in the making of these Pearls that I falter in my forward motion, and begin to wonder exactly what the HELL I think I’m doing…. Then, I grin at myself in the nearest mirror, and remind myself, hey, who gives a shit? At that point, I am free to go on, to bigger, and better, things…. Well, that’s the plan, anyway…
The following seven-star pearl is an odd one… It started out in one direction, then took a good 110 degree turn into another….. Far be it from me to interfere where I’m not wanted, so, I let it do its thing, promising to accept whatever happened…. In looking over the end result, all I can say is, keep your minds flexible, ffolkes, in reading these, and don’t let them push you into the wrong alley… There just might be something down that alley that could cause you some serious harm…. or not…. Let’s see just what happened, shall we?…..
“A mask has but one expression, frozen and eternal, yet it is always and ever the essential expression, and to hide one’s telltale flesh behind the external skeleton of the mask is to display the universal identity of the inner being in place of the outer identity that is transitory and corrupt. A mask, any mask, whether horned like a beast or feathered like an angel, is the face of immortality. Meet me in Cognito, baby. In Cognito, we’ll have nothing to hide.” — Tom Robbins
“I believe there is a limit beyond which free speech cannot go, but it’s a limit that’s very seldom mentioned. It’s the point where free speech begins to collide with the right to privacy. I don’t think there are any other conditions to free speech. I’ve got a right to say and believe anything I please, but I haven’t got a right to press it on anybody else. …. Nobody’s got a right to be a nuisance to his neighbors.” — H.L. Mencken
“Victory goes to the candidate with the most accumulated or contributed wealth who has the financial sources to convince the middle class and poor that he will be on their side.” — Mark B. Cohen
“Anarchism is not a romantic fable but the hardheaded realization, based on five thousand years of experience, that we cannot entrust the management of our lives to kings, priests, politicians, generals, and county commissioners.” — Edward Abbey
“By definition, a government has no conscience. Sometimes it has a policy, but nothing more.” — Albert Camus
“Lots of them go to the spring, but none of ‘em ever drink.” — Footprints
“But Chrysippus, Posidonius, Zeno, and Boethus say, that all things are produced by fate. And fate is a connected cause of existing things, or the reason according to which the world is regulated.” — Diogenes Laertius (c. 200 AD) — Zeno, lxxiv
Zounds!…. If such astute men as Chrsippus, Posidonius, Zeno, and Boethus ALL say this, well, then, it must be true, right? I mean, those are all names that echo down the halls of history, shouting out their wisdom, right?… No?…. Oh, yeah, I guess I haven’t heard of any of them, either…. Oh, well, never mind… Just go with the flow, and it will all make sense… And if not, don’t worry about it; none of this will be on the Quiz….
“Portions of the preceding were recorded. As for the rest, I quite fear that it was all in your mind.” — Smart Bee
It is arguably a good thing that we have reached the end of this Pearl…. I’m not sure whether or not it would remain in a non-explosive state if continued any further…. Now, if it can stand up to the loose standards of scrutiny applied here, we’re good to go for another day…. Be right back, after I see what actually took place up there….
Once more, the resulting mess defies description, or analysis…. That, in and of itself, is probably for the best….. Before I do something, or write something that will cause more serious harm, I’m going to post this, and be done with it… I managed to get to some of my favorite blogs yesterday, to catch up a bit on my reading, and awareness of what is up out there in WordPress… It felt good, and I plan to do so again today, given the space from my pain I experienced yesterday…. we can hope, can’t we? Of course we can…. it doesn’t mean our hope will be justified, or fulfilled, but, hey, it’s better than a milkshake made of tree bark and turpentine, right? Definitely right…. See ya…..
Y’all take care out there,
and May the Metaphorse be with you;
Blessed Be, dearest Carole, Mark, and Theresa…
and everyone else, too…
When I works, I works hard.
When I sits, I sits loose.
When I thinks, I falls asleep.
Which is Why….
Sometimes I sits and thinks,
I just sits.