Archive for the ‘Simple Joy’ Category


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Doors and Windows

Doors & Windows

Edge, surface and shadow The page before us is bound to the next and previous by its edge and as its turn occludes the available light in a moving shadow, deepening until the darkness of one page’s complete covering ends its currency…

The Doorway Leading Out

While I’m not an existentialist (I believe, even more, in tomorrow than I do in today) I feel very certain that the senses tell us things that our imaginations turn into our reality. That makes what we “know” from so-called “empirical” data suspect until subjected to careful scrutiny with a direct eye upon the nature of the illusions we labor before. The senses tell us things about things and never the thing itself. We have this massive indirection built into our sampling of what we all want to believe is reality. That “reality” is, by definition then, totally subjective and crafted by each imagination based upon its experiences, wants and needs.

The upshot here – we are alone and isolated except for our ability to open a variety of “ports” through which we can sample the “other”. These access points bring “data” to our central awareness in ways that allow our cognition to analyze, assess and develop a kinesthetic imagination of the part of the universe in which we are isolated and currently focused. Necessity’s daughters, then conspire, introducing stochastic vagaries impossible to predict or scheme around and, in grand summation, present us with – perception. And because this knowledge can be disconcerting to some it often is rejected out of hand.

But, for me, it is liberating as it answers many questions and frees the mind of earth-binding shackles. As with my parable of the two men at the edge of the cliff (parable of the two men on the cliff ) where the one who knows he cannot fly has a very bad trip down filled with panic and abject terror, but, the one who truly believes he can fly has a busy trip filled with activity, expectation and final, important discovery. Albert Einstein once said: “Reality is an illusion: albeit a persistent one.”. And in that, gives us the nature of the beast – for if reality and illusion are synonymous then nothing changes for us. We may walk through life exactly as we did before and nothing will have changed – except us!

We now have our meta-thinking caps on and have experienced how a single meme can change everything and yet leave everything unchanged. Like falling in love or discovering the person with whom you are smitten was lying when they said they loved you too. And when we discover that the philosopher’s stone of a female touch can turn the lead of a “drive to succeed” into the pure gold of a magnificent love affair, will alchemy still seem a foolish idea and that stone but, the doorstop against the portal of our vanities warehouse.

When Malcomb Gladwell speaks of the weight of an idea eventually “tipping” the full scope of action and how the change that occurs happens in the “blink” of an eye, he is doing service to that moment of understanding, of mind changing awareness based upon a new organization and imagination’s view of perceived data. When a meme is constructed in such a way as to provoke a new opinion of the objects and circumstances it often causes the perceiver to embark on a new path with a new outlook for the future. Thus our “magnum opus” is recognition that the crucial moments when we move from one firmly held belief to another, forms the edges in our existence that are the connections that stitch our life’s “eras” together. And that these “eras” are exclusively constructed of opinion – a primary building block of illusion.

These “passages” give me pause and introduction to the kind of thinking that inspired Paul Valery to say: “The universe is built on a plan the profound symmetry of which is somehow present in the inner structure of our intellect.” and Immanual Kant to decide that perception was all that was to be ours and apprehension forever beyond our grasp. So as with Maugham’s Philip, who had exulted in his boyhood when the weight of a belief in God was lifted from his shoulders; I am relieved of the burden of needing a “reality” I can never apprehend. Stepping out into the fresh perception of sunlit mornings, smelling the heavy scent of the dew bejeweled pines and feeling the morning mist on my face, I embrace and exult in my illusion and if I am to be “the brain in the vat” then I am going to indulge, in the most epicurean way, my tastes and predilections to maximize the potential of this illusory universe. Others dream of castles in Spain – I will live in mine!



What, in fact, surrounds me is specifically not me. I am the figure, it is the ground.

What I am not represents the solid, negative space in which I am the hole.
Carved out of only the not-else, everything left is me!

I am the sum of notness, the pinnacle of ain’t and precipitated lees of uh-uh.

And there is so very much of it that I must begin each day with a decision of what part of that vast notness will I focus on being today. If I wish to be the very best that I can be, I’ll need to accentuate the positive elements of not being those things over which my cognitive lens scans.

when you subtract everything that I am not from the universe that remains, the dregs, the muck at the very bottom of that barrel – is me!! The worlds best bad example. the one you can point at and say: “he sure ain’t no Patsy Cline or galvanized drool bucket! well he’s alright but not nearly the carbon fiber popsicle stick I had hoped for. yes but, can he make penuche cotton candy with his nose? can he fart the bossa nova or whistle up a ball bearing hat ring?”

Solipsismal meanderings aside, I am not even me! Me, you see, is a pronoun and I am not a pronoun. I’m not the subject of this sentence, hungry, angry, tumescent, prepubescent, phosphorescent or anhedonic.

If I exhibit bilabialness without being bilabial, I’m sure you’ll understand, It is just my nature.

Wood Song

I left a poem in the trees
One time out by the bay
Its tone was soft, there by the sea
And made me want to stay

I could not, then, bring it out
Its need was where it stood
But, I will go again one day
to hear that whispering wood

Now ease my heart as winter wears
And keeps its clock so dear
As my needs wont to waters edge
That verdant song still there

Sail Muscongus!!

Tried a day on the water in Muscongus bay today. Sailed on the Friendship Sloop Sarah Mead with Captain Randy Jones. Simply wonderful! The Captain, a very competent sailor with a complete knowledge of the area, custom crafted a three hour tour of the area between Louds and Hogs island and the mainland from Round Pond in Bristol and back up to the Audobon  Society facilities at the head of Hogs island. Sail Muscongus CAptainsThe Sarah Mead

They are very flexible and will adjust any cruise to suit the interests of the current passengers. We are small boat sailors (16 ft wayfarer dinghy) with some interest in sailing out of Muscongus Harbor. The Captain made sure to show us the safest passages and gave us the “real skinny” on problem areas and how to deal with them. While we were coming back to harbor we were treated to the sighting of nesting bald eagles on Hogs island. The Captain immediately dubbed our sail “The Eagle Cruise”. Great place, great people, great boat!

Boats and Rabbits and Beer; Oh Dear!

I don’t hopscotch in the dirt much lately (pity) but I used to do that all the time. I remember borrowing a sailboat and going out the Essex river to a sandy beach that could only be reached from the water. Four of us picnicked all day and played hopscotch in the sand, “body” surfed and had a few rounds of hacky sac and beer (or was it twenty??). I was in my late thirties and remember us tying our bathing suits to the boom to dry out as we sailed back…we had worn our bathing suits out that day and left our clothes back in the car.On my desk at the “head shed” I worked for, I kept two “Racer Rabbits” that came as prizes in cereal (Kix maybe?? “Kix are for Kids!!! So the poor rabbit wasn’t allowed to have any”:( Anyhow, I had a blue one (boy) and an orange one (not boy) and I made up stories about them and their relationship and would tell the stories to my office mate (David) each morning. One day I came to work and there were two blue racer rabbits on my desk and the orange one had vanished! I looked and hunted and ranted and raved but no one would ever confess who gave my racer rabbit the sex change operation while I was sleeping!!!

It was a long, long time ago in a galaxy far far away. But, you can see, I still remember vividly those halcyon days with gossamer clouds floating beneath limitless azure skies…

Hey, let’s “pants” someone?!

Be A Kid Again!

  • Do a cartwheel.
  • Sing into your hairbrush.
  • Walk barefoot in wet grass.
  • Play a song you like really loud, over and over.
  • Dot all your “i”’s with smiley faces.
  • Read the funnies. Throw the rest of the paper away.
  • Dunk your cookies.
  • Read the rest of this entry »

© 2018 What's That On the Road – A Head
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