It's been like a freakin stupid month and my last post wasn't anything to write home about--but I just can't. I mean I'm tired and I have to get ready for my 7am class tomorrow and, well, I don't have anything serious to say. Ok, that's not true. I have a lot of serious things to say, but when I start composing a post in my head it sounds dreadful, dull, and downright depressing.
For example I could say something about family trips, how they impact children, create memories...I can't, it's too painful because I'd have to mention that our four day camping trip to Bear Lake was cut to a one nighter, a night filled with scooping up barf out of...ok I won't go there.
Or I could say something about the whole God/god/gawd question I've been rolling around in my noggin. Hell, going to hell I'll bet, it's just a muddled mess in my head. Someday I need to write more about this, maybe after I finish the Dawkin's book or maybe after I become a practicing Buddhist, because god knows I can't discuss it with anyone I know. Either they don't understand my angst because they've never really believed in God or they would take my criticism of "God" so personal that our relationship would never be the same...ok, ok I'm not going write about this either.
I could also, and I'm quite tempted, write about my looming 20th high fucking school reunion. Of course the dropped F bomb already indicates that this topic is too raw for me to reflect on. Talk about depressing: I was forwarded the address to the in-process class of 87 (I won't mention the school in case my blog would turn up on some past high school acquaintance's Google search nostalgically tooling around for pre-reunion gossip) website. Oh my gawd I was depressed, Holden Caulfield like depressed, when I read through the little statements people had posted about their lives. Some mentioned all the great amazing things they've done with their lives; others revealed things they should only be sharing with a loved one (and we ain't your fuckin' loved ones! It's been 20 years!!!). Obviously I can't write about all this--too painful and clearly I'm being way too hard on these, I'm sure, lovely people from the past. Not too mention I'm an insincere bastard since I've been checking for updated bios two or three times a day--I have issues. I really do hope they spend some quality time together without me.
Well, since there's nothing to write about I'll just stop myself right now.
7 comments:
Good to see a post from you. Sometimes the genre (blog post) just isn't quite suitable to the occasion (as in the occasions you've mentioned). Although I do hope you'll sometime post about the God question--I'm interested in this ongoing saga of yours.
I'll leave the second issue alone. AS for the first.. sorry man. A spoiled vacation can be a real bummer.
The 20th seems to be a real trigger for you. I completely ignored my 20th. Letting go of High School has been a relief for me. I wonder why anyone would be interested in my boring life after a 20 year absence. I sure as hell am not interested in anyone else's life either. Angie isn't going, or even interested (she did enjoy looking over the website though).
Best Wishes. Catch your breath and hug a tree (can't hurt).
HH
Yes to wanting to hear more about the god/God/gawd. As someone who used to believe and who just stopped believing, I'm interested in your process. I don't remember/blocked out my loss of belief.
and as for the 20th, well. I guess I'm just too curious. I had to go. And it was actually fun. But I can understand why one would not want to go. But the thing about the 20 was that all the stupidity about HS was gone and everyone (for the most part) was nice. It was fun to catch up.
Hope to see you soon!
Come now, my friend and neighbor, since when have we discussed a topic, discussed and on occassion disagreed vehemently, raised our blood pressure as well as our voices, but yet not come out friends. Since when would we let a thing like God come between us? We need to talk some weekend; you know where to find me ... I'm to your right.
Dr. Write: I could have warned you about hanging out too much with Middlebrow; he's browbeat you into an atheist!!
God issue will/must be blogged about soon.
Neighbor: good to hear from you; you must have remembered your password or created a new account. My comment is less about any one or even any friends and more about how alone we really all are in our own personal beliefs and views.
Me browbeat Dr. Write? Ha!
As for the second issue, how about tree worship? Here's an essay I found:
Trees by Hermann Hesse
Trees have always been the most effective preachers
for me. I revere them when they live in nations and
families, in forests and groves. And I revere them
even more when they stand singly. They are like
solitaries. Not like hermits who have stolen away out
of some weakness, but like great, isolated men, like
Beethoven and Nietzsche. The world murmurs in their
tops, their roots rest in the infinite; however, they
do not lose themselves in it but, with all the energy
of their lives, aspire to only one thing: to fulfill
their own innate law, to enlarge their own form, to
represent themselves.
Nothing is more sacred, nothing is more exemplary than
a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree has been sawed
off and shows its naked mortal wound to the sun, one
can read its whole history on the bright disc of its
stump and tombstone; in its annual rings and
cicatrizations are faithfully recorded all struggle,
all suffering, all sickness, all fortune and
prosperity, meager years and luxuriant years, attacks
withstood, storms survived. And every farm boy knows
that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest
rings, that, high in the mountains and in ever-present
danger, the most indestructible, most powerful, most
exemplary tree trunks grow.
Trees are santuaries. He who knows how to speak to
them, to listen to them, learns the truth. They do not
preach doctrines and recipes, they preach the basic
law of life, heedless of details.
A tree speaks: In me is hidden a core, a spark, a
thought, I am life of eternal life. The experiment and
throw (of the dice) that the eternal mother ventured
on me is unique, unique is my shape and the system of
veins in my skin, unique are the slightest play of
foliage at my top and the smallest scar in my bark. It
is my office to shape and show the Eternal in the
distinctively unique.
A tree speaks: My strength is trust. I know nothing of
my fathers, I know nothing of the thousand children
which come out of me every year. I live the mystery of
my seed to the end, nothing else is my concern. I
trust that God is within me. I trust that my task is
sacred. In this trust I live.
When we are sad and can no longer endure life well, a
tree can speak to us: Be calm! Look at me! Life is not
easy, life is hard. These are childish thoughts. Let
God talk within you and they will grow silent. You are
anxious because your road leads you away from your
mother and your home. But every step and day lead you
anew to your mother. Home is neither here nor there.
Home is inside you or nowhere.
A yearning to wander tears at my heart when I hear
trees rustling in the wind in the evening. If one
listens quietly and long, the wanderlust too shows its
core and meaning. It is not a wish to run away from
suffering, as it seemed. It is a yearning for home,
for the memory of one¢s mother, for new symbols of
life. It leads homeward. Every road leads homeward,
every step is birth, every step is death, every grave
is the mother.
Thus the tree rustles in the evening when we are
afraid of our own childish thoughts. Trees have long
thoughts, long in breath and calm, as they have a
longer life than we. They are wiser than we, as long
as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned
to listen to trees, the very brevity and swiftness and
childish haste of our thoughts acquire an incomparable
joy. He who has learned to listen to trees no longer
desires to be a tree. He does not desire to be
anything but that which he is. That is home. That is
happiness.
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