“Both destiny’s kisses and its dope-slaps illustrate an individual person’s basic personal powerlessness over the really meaningful events in his life: i.e. almost nothing important that ever happens to you happens because you engineer it. Destiny has no beeper; destiny always leans trenchcoated out of an alley with some sort of Psst that you usually can’t even hear because you’re in such a rush to or from something important you’ve tried to engineer.” ~ David Foster Wallace
Somehow it feels colder this morning although it is actually warmer; some kind of subjective, physiological, whatever, sensation. It feels pretty good. That’s what I’m sayin. As I sat out on the observation deck at the end of the Wetlands Trail at lunch yesterday I heard that whisper, that nearly breathless shared secret that Nature shuffled my way, like a note slid across the table in the high school lunchroom: snow is on the way. Not soon, but the feel is shimmering in the fast-changing light of Autumn. The air smelled funny too, like a seductive partner in the secret of the light. Made me feel all poetic. Sweet. Now, it’s getting to be a Sunday pattern, wherein I am slowly easing into awareness of the fact that I can laze all I want, all day, if I want, and/or I can be active – if I want. A Sunday movie sounds like a recurring theme as well. I don’t treat myself too kindly too often and that is one of my Samhain resolutions: to be more kind to myself, to treat myself like I would a treasured friend. I view it as a cautious open-mindedness, cautious because with an open mind there is always someone, sinister or nitwit, who is ready to pounce and fill it up for you. I ain’t going there. I could touch on both compassion and mercy for oneself. It fits. I will elaborate no further than that. What I am getting down to, with, whatever, is that sometimes ya jest gotta let them thoughts and silly notions scurry about as they will while the heart gets to beat freely so as to once again become a conduit for peace and love and all that good old hippie stuff. Speaking of open minds, or lack thereof, I read a curious article this morning about a class on anthropology at some University down yonder in Texas. Seems that when the professor noted that all humans originated in Africa several students got up and flat walked out of the room in protest, accompanied by a chant from others: Black Lives Matter. This blows my mind. Good thing he didn’t tell them that we evolved from slime mold. That is not true, is not a fact, but it is about as viable a claim as the thought that different races didn’t all come from common ancestors, if you go far enough back. Of course Donald Trump may have descended from slime mold. There is a lot of subjective evidence to suggest it may be so. Friggin doofus. A dangerous doofus, but a doofus nonetheless. Soooo . . . moving forward, I feel pretty darned free this morning. That’s two days in a row. I’m not used to this. I’m a worry wart and a scaredy cat. It’s not supposed to be this way. Transformation is underway, or maybe even transmutation. Either one is good.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.