Take a moment to consider all that goes into a performance like this.
- Many instances of talented and practiced people
- The music, composition arrangement
- the multitasking
- The culture around the art on display
- Time and planning
- all of the history and circumstances leading up to it
The end result is a bunch of people working together to create a few moments where they become something much greater than the sum of there parts.
We can do some amazing shit when we apply ourselves.
On a Memory
The other day, I went for a walk in the rain. On this walk, through the old town area, I passed by a park. It’s a small brick paved area between two buildings, with some trees, benches, and such.
Now, as I looked at this location I’ve known my entire life I found myself recalling a relatively recent memory of a time I had sat in this park and cried. This memory did have a person associated with it. However, I’m still on good terms with this person, and I have forgotten the events causing this sadness. Although I do remember crying and being sad, no emotion response is conjured with the memory.
In a pessimistic shade, it shows that even as history falls away and the hurting fades, the pain is remembered. In an optimistic light, time heals all wounds, and I have a functional memory. I’m thinking that it added up to almost nothing. The memory is a record, nothing more or less.
Being the Odd One Out - Madness
My Special Topics: Madness in Literature class has caused me some self (what’s the word, it’s not concern, investment sounds detached) intrigue.
See the Sky?
See the big emptiness of blue?
Only the birds embrace it’s nature. Taking to the wind, moving with seemingly endless grace and freedom, only their own physical condition holding them to the ground.
I used to swim. That was freedom, free from weight, free from ground and gravity, only bound by my lungs. Moving in 3 dimensions swirling round and round, my inner ear becoming confused by the movement. Losing sense or position and reality.
Both our sky and our oceans are blue.
Light, dark, deep blue.
Some are welcoming and warn, while other blues are so quiet and solemn, and yet other still deep and terrible. Just like the freedom they hold, the freedom they represent.
Water and air are life; water and air and blue; and water and air are free.
I like blue.
Thoughts on Thoughts on Shrunken Heads
Shrunken heads are weird. A friend of mine linked me to this article. I found it a bit hard to read, a bit off-putting.
Why? Usually such things as medical procedures, treatment of remains, surgery, and dissection don’t phase me too much. However, upon reading about this I found myself feeling uncomfortable.
I’m not sure why. Perhaps it has something to do with what I have accepted as normal. Maybe I was just caught off guard, as opposed to my scientific mode in which I usually experience such things. It could be that it truly is disturbing to treat human remains in such away, or perhaps it is a good thing, but I’m clouded by the worldview I was raised with.
My smarter half has no problems with it. It has a strong cultural and religious rooting and importance, and I just don’t comprehend it fully. However, the rest of me wants to stop thinking about it.
I’ll probably try to understand more fully in the future, but for now I’m going to look at cute things and purge it from myself.
Hell isn’t a realm of fire and brimstone; it is a place where one portion of the holiday lights blink and the rest do not.
Self reflection is looking in a mirror. The longer you look the more flaws you’ll find and the more doubts you’ll have.
We should look in mirrors more often.
(not) Giving Up
It seems that in everything I have ever read, the human spirit is the ability to keep going. To always work past the bad, even if it’s still affecting you.
I find it curious that so much of our (human) literature embodies this. Stories and art tend to reflect something in the people or cultures that create them. That being observed, what does it say that there is such a large presence of the idea of never giving up? More over, it seems that in most cases I have observed, it isn’t to the end of some incredible goal. No, rather it seems to be tenacity in the face of ordinary problems and mistakes.
Is life and existence really so hard that continuing is an achievement? Or is it a temptation of quitting? Is a desire to stop a commonality among humans? Is it an insignificant reassurance?
I don’t know.
However, it does seem that most of humanity would agree that an individual should always keep moving forward.
A Guide to Being a Relatively Not-Bad Person.
Step 1. Live Life
Step 2. If you are inclined to act in a manner that would be disrespectful, ignorant, rude, malicious, or even callous, don’t.
Step 3. Rinse and repeat.
History may be written by the victors, but they still have to mention those that lost.
Earth is a bit like one big organism isn’t it?
A huge eco/geo/climate system that makes up our little rock flying through space.
Does that mean if we colonize other planets, that earth had a baby?
Should we eat our old people when they become too weak to work?
When ever I feel that there is too much to do, I make a To Do list. Putting thoughts in order and planning releases the stress. After that, all you have to do is move forward.