Often I think about how we fill our minds up with ‘stuff‘ (thank you George Carlin)… How easy it was to be in the blissful cross-hairs of youth. Innocence is just one of those things that can not be put back into the bottle (as much as we may try). I used to feel a sad pity for those with special needs but now at times I am jealous (to an extent as a mental exercise) that they can exist in the perpetual bliss of unawareness. Sure, I would not be who I am if I was not self aware… but the pull of that other option, the temptation is certainly there. Self awareness and in my case overly active brain is tiring at times… maybe that is why when I am on vacation I prefer a lonely beach so I can pretend that the waves are washing away all the crust the world has built up upon my hull… but it takes a toll… how much? We will never know. But if you do… I would love the answer, please tell me so… so I can truly rest before the true (final) rest. But I suppose, like everyone I will just be out there sailing the seas of thought seeking islands of legend… and then one day running aground near some nameless forgotten port, sinking, absorbed into the shifting sands at the bottom of the ocean of time, my particles to become the building blocks for some other creation… be it animated or not, a crab perhaps but I would hope for more…. but like all else I am not in control of such things.
“simple observation” 6.10.18
making up games
rules are loose
made up races
I miss the whimsy of youth
notes on the poem: I wrote this in a rest area on the GSP… (like many things), a couple and their kids had unloaded out onto the picnic area… and just… the kids did what kids do, making games of the world, amazing, I miss that.
for whatever reason… this piece came to my mind:
I like the peaks and falls, and the quiet parts…