Here is a slice of something. I mean its taken out of something. No It’s more like a small window on various processes of thought that don’t really have an end yet. Garden type stuff -things that change imperceptibly, things that grow to become other things. I’ve been thinking about micro climates. I think the problem I have with being in the physical 3D environment Of This Specific Middle Tennessee location is that it lacks things like frogs or snakes or salamanders.
But then I’ve actually physically worked on reshaping and cleaning the environment around the house i live in so now I have the benefit of a little closer look at the situation.
To think about things like salamanders Is thinking way way too big. I’m sure there are many insects whose whole life occurs in a very small area. In fact if I imagine how the environment of a salamander or a frog or perhaps something more exotic yet indigenous differs from what I find around here I realizes that since all is tilled or covered or somehow worked there is no place where there is still water over any given time span. I remember when i first encountered frogs as a child in Muckleteo Washington. Our next door neighbor had a pasture with a low spot that never dried up so much that the frogs wouldn’t breed. I saw and felt the polliwogs all through there life cycle just because I was truly bored and that seemed to be momentarily more interesting than holding the electric fence or catching snakes.
A few year later when I was in middle school Olympia Washington and lived in a brand new cul-de-sac full of similar duplexes. There was a little path that led down a ravine of sorts and there was a quiet pool there. Tit was surrounded by some bushes but there was a large rock to sit and it appeared to have been there for years. Only now do I realize what a transcendent experience the hours spent there were.
Then again I could go back to grade school and remember the time I made up my favorite word. THe school I went to was built near the building with the largest enclosed interior space ? I remeber looking out of the schoolbus everymorning and noting whether the giant doors were open and what huge unpaited planes were being built.
But the beauty of that kind of pond is that it is out of the way and it is quiet. To find that this kind of an inviroment produces these little jewel like frogs is really miraculous. And maybe that’s what this is about. It’s about stopping and consciously considering things in a pleasant environment that is away from any distractions of a carelessly manmade nature. It’s actually really amazing to realize that there must be many many hidden places where the soil hasn’t been worked for years and there are rotting trees(I am sure there is a technical term for this but…) and moss covered rocks. But it seems that at least in some places these areas are the only private space some people have to drink with there friend so the end up rather befouled. I wonder why that wasn’t the case with the pond in olympia? Maybe it was actually much closer to the duplexes then I remember. Hell it doesn’t matter does it? I’ve been to Thoreauwalden Pond(Small Lake) and I realize now that even if Thoreau was only a small bit away he could come to find himself in an entirely natural setting. Natural in the sense that it hasn’t been made into something, that for the purposes of a childs outlook or the present moment one is phenomenologically experiencing an enviroment that is uncultured. Metaphysically the conscious experience of being in a park is a completely different thing but if the land appears free of obvious ownership and is easily at hand then one can get the sense of being a human animal free to roam about in in nature. Of coarse that is just in a sense because you truly cannot roam about the land freely. But in the being of the sitting by the still pools on can see how a brain in this environment would be much less distracted by the weapons of the advertisers. By the subliminal effects of all archetecture one spends ones life in. By the value easily percieved of all the things placed around one. The huge light on the corner, the strong flat asphalt the large complicated “miracles of engineering” rolling around everywhere taking people around because that’s what people do in these places. One grows up riding around in these things from childhood and yet to think about them as non-integral to ones life seems insane.
I’ve been thinking about the concept of care. Like when i read “In entering into a relationship with an object of desire it attains its Name, defines its personality, it comes alive by giving it intimate attention, it vibrates a Numinosum, the beauty of soul is brought out in a participation mystique.” I think of the relationships i get into with my various interests. Like how I got the idea to take care of the
garden around my house maybe a year ago.
I let that relationship grow and was able to see with more and more depth and resolution various aspect of the garden. Like what the soil was like and how the water ran and the age of different things.
I ripped up the floor of an old shed and stripped everything out and now I sit there alone and think about how
squatting(physically) in this shed on the dirt looking out the doorway I am physically in relatively the same material environment as someone in a third world country. I like to see the dirt and i think i desire to let down finally all the culturally instilled preconceived notions i had about the value of things.
When I think back just a few years ago i realize that I was involved in a culture of death that spread inaction and frustration as life denying stances became valued as death avoiding.
I am pretty sure we may all die but I am totally sure i don’t know for myself what that really means. It looks like no one around me
alive at all. Everyone looks and act dead. Everyone sits and sits and yells and moans yet accepts the limited horizon offered by the cultural worldview derived from the mass media.
I had some reason to expect it perhaps might have a copy of Hiedeggar’s Being In Time or perhaps some Derrida or Baudrillard because they boasted on the web that they had 200 books of literary criticism.
Well no I was told by an older distinguished gentlemen that he had a wearhouse full of literary criticism but it didn’t sell and though he might have had some Hiedeggar in the past he doubts there are any on the shelves currently. He was right they had a beat up copy of
I think it is rather sad that this bookstore is so well known by people who go to Nashville when it obviously isn’t frequented by anyone with an actual desire to expand their mind. But then it seems most people have rather pedestrian interests. In fact it seems like a life spent exposing oneself to media in order to see new or interesting things in a conscious way becomes extremely claustrophobic. To maintain a pattern of mind that will lead to fruitful things coming out of an abundance of spirit requires total immersion in a way of thinking as much as it does to overcome the illusion of a dead lonely planet with sad streessed out ghosts wandering around nowhere. The Media available to people everywhere for free is all of a piece. Media is distraction, it makes small people feel big. It is a large window that has only thus far been used in a narrow singleminded fascist way. The postmodernist insight that our reality is what is on the media is only true to the extent that we can’t see past the tens of thousands of hours experience most people have with these commercially funded media. It’s strange how people can put their minds into that world. If its purpose was in any way artistic or educational in a real way than it would not be the product. The entire experience is one of “feeling ways about stuff designed to make you feel exactly that way.” Why is it not patently obvious that a population in a country where everyone has a had more face time with this “Media World” than with any particular person would becomes almost inextricably bound to what ever message happens to end up on the screen. It is probably the case that it isn’t an INTENTIONAL message. “Attention everyone: look and listen to this” is just structurally gonna have a large and lasting effect on the parts of the human mind tied up with processing things on an unconscious level.
If it actually is the case that the human brain processes much more information about our sense perceptions than we are consciously aware of, why is it so hard to understand that our experience of the world has been severely altered through forces seeking to control behaviour? If a large picture appears on a billboard then on a glowing electronic screen then in a magazine and on a bus isn’t it at least concievable that a certain amount of strange connections could be made by a mind whose business it is to construct a cohesive reality?
You can’t always get what you want is a song about a falsehood. I always seem to get what I want but what I want rarely turns out to be what I need. I’ve spent a whole bunch of time alone and in my head. In the past when I was a kid I had friends who I could hang out with all the time but I really couldn’t talk to. I’m just different. No that can’t be true.
OK Maybe I’ve written about this before but when I was in the 6 grade I went to middle school and I really don’t know what the hell I was thinking. First they put me in the top class that was actually reading Dune but once again I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even read the book so they put me in a lower class. During recess I hung out with just one person. His name was Tim Armstrong and he was weird like me. We both had this imaginary world that we took from our grade school days where I was a Floppy Fingered Goober and he was a Blue Moon Goober and from that premise we passed the time during our lunches and breaks. I really don’t remember what things we actually did but I do remember getting into a lot of trouble. I don’t know why. I think the principle didn’t like me or something. They put me into solitary confinement one day. I had to stay in a room by myself all day long. I got back at the principle by not speaking up when lunch came so he had to take me personally and then I didn’t leave after school because no one told me to so they had to drive me home.
I look back at my early childhood I can’t think of how I could have been helped. I just didn’t do anything I was told. I also didn’t do anything at all. I spent my time by myself just like I am right now. No one else is awake. Nothing I do matters right now. I remember listening to the radio every night and listening to the a local Loveline show or to the radio mystery theatre. I remember the concept of Spur of the moment.
It seemed all the people wanted a partner who would do things on the spur of the moment. I know that’s what I always wanted. Then again I didn’t ever do anything on my own. I mean I needed to be led or I just sat around spending long hours playing with my Lego‘s.
Ahh my legos I remember I had this one design for the perfect space ship or airship . In fact I could probably build it right now. I have very very few memories of my childhood because I never wanted to remember anything I was so ashamed of everything I did. I remember I failed in so many ways. I remember I always always felt ashamed of myself. I remember I went to school everyday with a coat on that had fake fur around a hood that was attached. I always put it on and tightened to strings so I could just see out. I walked around looking at my shoes on the ground.
Looking at my feet. Wow I guess I spent just about all my time looking down at the safe ground . I walked up and down the beaches of the puget sound looking for limpets and rocks. I walked up and down the logs that bordered the next door nighbours c shaped drive way looking for snakes. I caught a lot of snakes and frogs. At that time I really had no friends I always assumed that Tim was much smarter than me and that’s why I stopped doing anything with him.
But hell I don’t know what happened really. I rember crying all the time because my dad smoked which is kinda weird because I smoke now. Mainly I remember feeling so guilty so so so guilty I could barely thing about anything else. I always felt guilty about not staying with my mom one night when she asked me to. I went to my Friends instead. I also remember feeling guilty or hurt if my mother or Anyone’s mother made something that got thrown away. This wasn’t some passing little feeling but it was an intense feeling of sadness that there was this effort made that wasn’t appreciated. I would feel that off and on for many yeasrs to come. In fact the feelings I had about the time I didn’t stay with my mom were still able to bring my to tears long after I left high school even though the event occurred before I was in first grade. I had so many things to feel bad about.
You know I kinda left my whole past. I’m unsure of what to think anymore. It doesn’t really come back unbidden anymore. It’s like it was somebody elses past. I haven’t talked to my mother or father in at least a and I haven’t talked to my sister in 4 or 5 years. I don’t talk to anyone I knew from the 36 or so years I lived in Washington state. I din’t purposely run away I just followed someone who told me what to do to wisconsin and then I actually decided I wanted to go to Tennessee. That move is one of the only ones I can rember that didn’t involve force or failure or escape.
Wow this is going nowhere fast It’s like one of those photos I’ve been taking where there is a center that is in focus but all around it there is a fast moving blur.
I can’t paint a picture of it. It doesn’t exist like that. There are just scraps and liitle scenes that don’t cohere and I wonder if it’s worth even writing this. But I would like to be able to write since I have a hard time thinking and finding people to talk to about certain things oh whatever. I’m gonna stop now