“No, it’s a cardigan, but thanks for noticing!”
Though that line is probably about as old as the hills in County Wicklow, I think it’s cool…. I first heard it, or a remarkably similar version of it, of course, many, many moons ago, but, saw it again recently on the internet, as the accompanying text to a picture…. of what seemed to be very drunk baby…. Most likely wasn’t, (drunk, that is….), merely good timing with the camera, to catch the baby with the silly expression, smiling, with eyes half-mast, wearing a cardigan, while standing on a picnic bench, with a pint of Harp in front of him…. I crack up hard every time it rotates through on my screen saver….
Any who, now that the most simple of old jokes are becoming viral internet memes, once someone’s perverted sense of humor combines with some geek juice, (hard to resist Photoshop and babies….), it’s hard to know when or where some old piece comes from, or what it once meant…. Not that I care, or anything like that, but, sometimes I think about that kind of stuff…. Pretty boring, eh? SIGH…..
I do sometimes wonder about word origins, though, which really isn’t a boring subject…. for some. I forget my own love of words sometimes can make things interesting for me that others don’t see at all, but, hey, we all tend to become self-centered when it comes to our own preferences…. I mean, that’s why we call them “personal” preferences, right? Now I’m defending self-centered behavior, and we’re only two and bit of a paragraph into this mess…. What the hell happened in that short amount of time? How did I lose control so quickly?…. Who’s in charge here, anyway? Because it’s apparently not me….
It’s tough to be me, on days such as this…. I know there is a certain level of quality I expect from myself when I write, so, I really have very little choice about how to approach all of this…. It takes ALL of my focus and concentration to make it come out right, so, my inability to sit for long, due to the unfortunate intrusion of physical discomfort of one sort or another (back and/or joint pain, stiffness, gas or abdominal bloat, arthritic swelling, etc…. without even going into PTSD symptoms that may manifest at any time….) makes an ordeal out of getting these done each day….
It’s weird, too, because there is very little I can do EXCEPT sit…. walking causes pain and/or numbness after a short distance anyway, and trying to do ANYTHING such as cooking while standing turns my back into a mahogany, two-by-four piece ofhard wood, complete with concomitant levels of pain…. Attempting to do any sort of kitchen work, as I used to do when I was a chef, can put me in bed for a couple hours if I push it too hard past the very short limit that now exists for me…. I can bear no weight at the end of my arms without straining the lower back, and causing it to react poorly…. In short, I’m a mess…. I’m merely 63, but my back and skeleton is 85 or 90…. according to one doctor, anyway….
But, I’m not alone in any of this, and I’m not really complaining, other than as a side note to what I’m trying to say here…. Of course, we also need to remember about moments like this, when I come to the realization that this intro has reached a point of viability, and I don’t have to keep on rambling incoherently about nothing much, just to fill up space…. In looking over what is above, I can only shake my head in chagrin, offer my apologies, and extend my assurances that the rest of today’s Pearl will be different…. I won’t say it will be better, because that sort of value judgment must come from the Gentle Reader…. I just hope I can write something that won’t make me nauseous, or want to hide….
Shall we Pearl?…..
“All my life, I always wanted to be somebody. Now I see that I should have been more specific.” — Jane Wagner, _The Search For Intelligent Life In The Universe_ — [Performed by Lily Tomlin]
Below you will find, I hope, a pearl of virtual wisdom, random harlequin style…. I’m not setting any parameters for this one, since that seems to work pretty well for us…. My head is a bit off the exact center, and I’m having a bit of trouble connecting some of my neuronic pathways, because, hey, where are they?…. Nevertheless, we will continue, as I can use my new Acme Pathfinder to seek out new trails through the labyrinth of my mind; this should allow us to find our way, to somewhere in the vicinity of where we need to go, thus confounding the forces of evil that would keep us from our appointed tasks…. Or something like that….
“To know what is right and not to do it is the worst cowardice.” — Confucius
“Ignorance is not bliss — it’s oblivion.” — Phillip Wylie
“I just forgot my whole philosophy of life!!!” — Zippy the Pinhead
“When two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers.” — East African Proverb
“There is no difference between theory and practice in theory, but there is often a great deal of difference between theory and practice in practice.” — Chuck Reid
“Whenever doubt can be called into question, do so.” — Smart Bee
“We find it hard to believe that other people’s thoughts are as silly as our own.” — James Harvey Robinson
Not bad for pot luck, eh?…. Onward, with new enthusiasm… Oh, wait, that’s not enthusi…. what the hell IS that?…… EEEEUWWW!! Yuck…. Oh, well, see you at the next section…. I’ll catch up to y’all after I clean this off…. I have no idea where THAT came from…
Now that we’ve dealt with the obligatory episode of induced hallucination, let’s see if we can find a poem that won’t cause any real harm…. Better yet, lets go for something really good… Okay, here you go…. this fits that description exactly….. It’s a bit longer than is comfortable, perhaps, but, whoever said this would be easy?…. Not me….
A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no more hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.
The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more. Come,
Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
The River sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.
Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.
Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveler, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers- desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot…
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.
I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours- your Passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister’s eyes, into
Your brother’s face, your country
And say simply
~~ Maya Angelou ~~
Perception is, perhaps, the most elementally intricate quality we possess as living creatures. Through the five-plus senses we bring to the process, we receive information from the universe that gives us what we require, in order to be able to interact with Reality, (another term for the Universe… for the purposes of this discussion, anyway….) in some sort of way that is meaningful to us.
This information comes to us in a variety of forms, and our minds must utilize the complex, yet subtle qualities of imagination, reason, logic, and all those mental functions that our minds have discovered to organize the information, functions whose etiology are basically unknown to us, as part of our basic nature. We don’t think about, or feel in any way, the process of seeing, or smelling, or touching, except in the context of the sense itself…. We just DO it….
Yet each sense is such that it works WITH all the others, in ways we don’t really understand, to give us the pictures in our heads that show us how our minds perceive the world outside us…. We, being the imaginative creatures we are, have evolved all sorts of ways to organize and utilize our perceptions, all of which are again connected (remember that complexity part…) to another facet of Reality, which is our motivation for what we do, an outgrowth of our judgments of what we perceive…. We perceive, we judge, we act on that judgment, all according to our basic outlook on life, and how we choose to accept, and use, what we perceive….
This subject, I know, is a bit esoteric for such a venue, but, I’m leading up to a point, which is this…. We all perceive the world differently, but, that doesn’t mean the world takes that into any account…. It’s one of our hardest lessons to accept when we are forced to admit that the Universe, in all its majestic glory, couldn’t give a tiny little crap for us, or for what we think of the way things are…. If we choose to interact with it in such a way that we are breaking the basic rules that everything works by, then we will have to pay the price, in the only way that the Universe uses to exact payment, to wit: extinction….
Now, given that, it seems to me that my ranting about all of this*** is a bit like that ant crawling up the elephant’s leg, with belligerent intentions…. In short, it’s not really a productive way to achieve whatever it is I’m trying to do, as I can see only one possible outcome, which, the odds, and logic, would tend to dictate doesn’t include any need for any worry on the part of the elephant….
All that is a long winded, pedantic way of saying that my rants, while satisfying on a personal level for the release they provide, are mostly a waste of breath, in a practical sense…. Nothing will change because I rant, in spite of the need for change being the whole purpose behind the rant…
The major part of that reason, I think, lies in the fact that I’m preaching to the choir…. None of the ffolkes, or folks, who read my blog, (with the possible exception of any bored NSA drones who may be assigned to do so merely because of my anti-government stance, shown by the use of key phrases indicating my opposition….), are in any position to make any of the changes themselves, even though many of them would be willing to do so, I think…. But, the people who inhabit the halls of our government in Washington, and in other capitols around the world, DON’T read my blog, nor do they agree with most of the things about which I rant….
Why is that, do you think? Why don’t the people who govern us agree with any of what I say in my rants? It’s all stuff that can be proven, and is certainly important enough to all of us to warrant discussion… But, they don’t agree… They have their own agendas, which don’t look like anything that anyone in the great unwashed masses could come up with, even though they supposedly represent US…. These are our representatives, ffolkes…. I found this short comment in an old Pearl, which I think sums up most of my point pretty well…..
(From May 12, 2012):
“Such bickerings to recount, met often in these our writers, what more worth is it than to chronicle the wars of kites or crows flocking and fighting in the air?” — John Milton (1608-1674) — The History of England, Book iv
Did you ever wonder why a group of crows is called a congress? I didn’t. It makes perfect sense to me…. Dark, sinister looking creatures who act in odd ways, even for birds. Their behaviors tend to lean toward stealing shiny objects from wherever, or stealing the food of people or other animals and birds. When they speak, it is in a voice that grates on the ear like fingernails on a slate. In groups, they mill around, cackling and grumbling and jostling each other, until they all fly off to different areas to carry out whatever nefarious schemes they have hatched among themselves.
No, I have no problem envisioning a congress of crows; in fact, I believe they are in session, now, in Washington, D.C. …. Why, look! Here’s a list of them now!…..
Them’s some affluent crows, ain’t they?…. That’s what happens when any politician is given the keys to the treasury….. One last query…. Who gets to say how much money members of Congress get paid? Answer: They are authorized to set that themselves…. Okay, one more… Who authorized them? Why, they authorized that themselves, of course….
I’m tired now…. I’ve managed to spout off now about the Asininnies, or, at least, about the 545 of them who inhabit the top levels of OUR democratic bureaucracy, for a good, oh, thousand words or so, and once again, it will end up being read by those who mostly agree… (I’m making the assumption, reluctantly, but, with confidence, that if they DIDN’T agree, they’d leave a comment to say so…. I know MY Gentle Readers would do so….), so, I’m perfectly aware that no changes will happen because of what I’ve written….
I don’t feel any better, either, damn it!….. 😦
*** It must be noted that “all of this” should be understood to include: global warming, and the impending ecological disaster, overpopulation, criminality of the Asininnies, most especially the egregiously selfish actions of the Beloved Ruling Class, the Shadowy Corporate Masters, Snakeheads in general, (human predators…. pimps, slavers, pedophiles, and the ilk…), Priestly Hierarchies, and the Ignorant Paramilitary Myrmidons….. Oh, yes…. Also, on the rare occasion, we like to expose Shakespeare, and Pooh’s evil twin….
The afterglow that generally accompanies the completion of a Pearl just isn’t happening today…. Maybe if I just get on with the posting part, and stop fussing with this any more, I’ll start to feel a bit more in tune with Reality…. Can’t hurt, I guess…. See you tomorrow, ffolkes….
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.