“We absolutely must leave room for doubt or there is no progress and there is no learning. There is no learning without having to pose a question. And a question requires doubt. People search for certainty. But there is no certainty. People are terrified — how can you live and not know? It is not odd at all. You only think you know, as a matter of fact. And most of your actions are based on incomplete knowledge and you really don’t know what it is all about, or what the purpose of the world is, or know a great deal of other things. It is possible to live and not know.” ~ Richard Feynman
“The spiraling flights of moths appear haphazard only because of the mechanisms of olfactory tracking are so different from our own. Using binocular vision, we judge the location of an object by comparing the images from two eyes and tracking directly toward the stimulus. But for species relying on the sense of smell, the organism compares points in space, moves in the direction of the greater concentration, then compares two more points successively, moving in zigzags toward the source. Using olfactory navigation the moth detects currents of scent in the air and, by small increments, discovers how to move upstream.” ~ Barbara Kingsolver
A gentle rain has been going in and out for three hours now. Clouds coming steady from due south. Sunday morning. Wake and bake has commenced, though mildly so; just something to get the gut anxiety to simmer down a tad. Seems to be working. Joke about cannabis all you want. Goddess knows I do. But my consumption has tapered off notably in the past month. There’s been no intention from me. It just happened. But enough of all that. I’ll enjoy the day, even if it is solely because the sunrise had the good graces to come on through the rain, however sparse it may be. Perhaps it will stay cloudy most of the day. The perpetual Floridian in me jest don’t take a likin’ to brilliant sunlight, day after friggin day. Other than the Everglades, I wonder how much of the old South Florida actually remains. The South Florida that Al Burt, a fine journalist of yore from the Miami Herald, called “the Mullet Latitudes”. Steadily as I age my appreciation for my good fortune in living in the Keys grows. Sure I miss the ocean down to my weary soul. And yet I’ve found marine fossils up in the high country, roundabout 9000 ft or so. So there’s that. I can’t help wondering once in a while about how my last 10 years there I spent in various stages of recovery from head trauma, and the mysterious after-effects of the Near-Death experienced all with it, or perhaps because of it. Whatever. PTSD was a relatively new diagnosis back then, having been born in 1980. That was a long time ago. The trauma fades in and out to this very day, but with an always heavy hand.
So now the rain has ceased. I’m so sorry, but I’ll take it in stride. Writing about early recovery from head trauma nearly triggered said trauma. Old Lady Sorrow started creeping in for a minute there. I’ll just leave it at that, k? Thanks, yer a pal.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.