I sit down to write this in desperation. I have arrived at a critical turning point. This is a middle aged crisis like no other. It is epic. It is a swirling dirvish of emotions that have seemingly arrived to a fine tuned epiphany. It is grandios. It is socially media infused. It is happening on a grand scale and a microscopic scale. It is neverending.
What? What's that you write? Tell me! Are you okay? Am I okay? Am I too old for this? Am I too young? What are the warning signs? What are the symptoms? What are the cures?
Whooooaaaa. Don't worry yourself and thanks for your concern. This one is mine. All mine. I am in the middle, at the edges and in the nucleus of it. It is MINE. If I attempt to share it, it might explode, yes. And the detritus from the fallout might catch a wisp of your eyelash, yes. But it is not contagious. Unless, of course, you are a carrier. Then, and only then, might we reach a threshold of energy that could reach detonation proportions equivalent to the nucleur bomb or a universe exploding into existence.
But, my experience has shown me that is quite unlikely. After a near half century of waltzing around the planet nurturing the inner flame of this beast I have met few carriers. And us carriers are scattered enough to not be a threat to any large scale change. Scattered by culture. Religion. Media. Gender.
Alright. Phew. So then. I don't understand. What the heck are you talking about? I'm confused.
Confusion is normal. Confusion is intended. We arose out of the primordial soup in the state of chaos. This is our default setting. Anyone or anything pretending otherwise is lying. History attests proof of this. Certainty is a simplistic mathematical exercise best left to the immature minds of children. Santa helps with that.
Santa? Is this about Christmas? Everyone knows that you are not a big fan of that and another rant is kind of boring. I, for one, expect better when reading your shyte.
In a way, yes, it is unfortunately about Santa. He is part of the maelstrom for sure but I used Him to exemplify how those of of us with sentient ability use a culture/religious/media icon like Santa to cement certainty into the brains of children. Instead of opening children to the (nearly) limitless possibilities and chaos inherent in life we spend inordinate amounts of time/money/thinking towards reinforcing certainty and stability to the future generation. This has led to generations of people (including myself) being perpetually disappointed with life because as we came of age, every single person has looked around and found endless chaos. It's everywhere. Even if you have a certainty about monotheism (culturally the most popular religion at the moment) each religious tradition has tales upon tales of times of chaos and upheaval.
And yet, we continue to preach stability. Certainty. Change is abhorred and when it rears it's inevitable ugly head we pronounce miracles (look at what this or that celebrity has overcome - or more often, not) or grant some deity ownership of the outcome (i.e. please pray for xyz outcome).
Wow Modern Times, you've really jumped down the rabbit hole during your 5 weeks absence from this blog.
Ha. Yes. I can see how you'd think that. But let me spell it out.
In the last year I've travelled extensively (Peru, New York, driving nearly the entire width of Canada and spending time in Vancouver, Winnipeg, Kenora, Montreal, Gros Morne and St. John's). It has brought me so much joy and I hope to get to that on these pages, eventually. In my five week hiatus from this blog I've pondered on this and that. I've written some fiction for the first time in my life (this is perhaps the greatest revelation of them all but I'll get to that here too, I'm sure).
Underneath all of this for me is the bigger question and then there is also the shroud surrounding that question. The shroud is anger and the bigger question is still not known but I do know the answer: 42.
|Picture taken from the edge of the Barrens towards Trepassey.|
On the Irish Loop, Newfoundland, NL, Canada.