Snow in the ‘banks this morning… accompanied of course by the dulcet tones of emergency sirens racing off to the various scenes of roadway mishap.
If today were yesterday I would have said something along the lines of “I rarely go to church because I want to” and then quoted a line from the song which shares the title of this post…”It’s hard to tell the difference of a prophet from a crackpot, I wouldn’t blame you if you’d rather stay in bed.” But then I would have to note that this in no way would be meant to reflect on any person or persons in particular… I just had that song running through my head for a good part of the morning.
Enough about that, just had to make the odd comment to sort of state a point; which is, when I write these things they are often little more than stream of consciousness solidified… Sort of… that is if the digital world is solid…which it would not really seem to be… except maybe in the sense that as I type, the words are displayed on a screen, which is solid… but then once I post the words to the “blogosphere” (still a stupid word…) what state do they exist in? Experiential? In that they only truly exist when being read (and thus experienced) by a reader… begging the question, if a word is posted on the interwebs, but is never read does it actually exist? Is “experiential” a state of being?
Pardon the odd questions. I will unabashedly blame a friend’s new blog about science, which you should go read. Recently he asked… well more posited really as I do not believe he was looking for an answer, the following question: “how many meters long is the song of the morning birds?”. He was using this as an example of a question that is poorly formed in that it is nonsensical and not worthy (necessarily) of an answer. But, BUT, what if one were to respond with a seemingly nonsensical answer… such as, “Well, it would depend on the type of bird doing the singing in that all birds sing different songs and if one were to record and transcribe the birdsong in question, one could identify the meter (metre) and thus “measure” the length of the song…” However, that would just be silly.
Anyways, what I was trying to relay in writing this is that, as I said, when I write, I write what I am feeling/thinking at the moment. I have a difficult time crafting these posts, that is I do not write them “ahead of time”, but rather in real time. I write them as they come to me. I have never really been much of a creative writer, as in I do not do well just spinning yarns, or for that matter writing about given subjects. I write about my experiences, my memories, my emotions, questions that I have, thoughts that I think… and these things are fleeting. And you know what? the writing has this interesting side-effect of both “solidifying” and releasing those thoughts, feelings, questions, etc.
What I am trying to say is that these posts, while reflecting a certain state of being…in a sense, are in many ways also a certain therapy for me. Ultimately I just enjoy the writing, and writing as I do sometimes expose some of my more fragile and distorted sides. Not to worry, I am not going mad… any more than usual anyway.
A Litany of Woe
Sometimes, life is more complicated than others. Likewise, some people have different tolerances for (or ways of managing reaction to) life’s little quirks. Most of the time life confuses and/or confounds me. Of course I am not talking about physiological life, although most of that too is beyond my grasp. I never could get the hang of biology… No, of course I am talking about the experience of going through the world as a semi-intelligent, self-conscious (self-aware?), being with a purported sense of free will. Some people that we might call “scientists” (quotes because as I am learning from that blog that I mentioned above, that particular moniker can mean something along the lines of “one who questions”…or something), look at life and try to figure it out. Some accept it as it is, comfortable in their belief in something that allows them to not concern themselves with such questioning… or something. I often find myself somewhere in between… or something. I do not feel a strong burning desire to understand what makes life (the world) work the way it does but rather I tend to spend more time trying to understand my relationship and reactions to it. I am just trying to make my way through life (the world) and sometimes that can be really complicated. Sometimes it can suck, and when I am feeling particularly put upon, by my experiences (I am not suggesting that life – or the world – is out to get me) I get a little manic. Sometimes that comes out as depression, sometimes confusion. Sometimes I am a bit bi-polar, in that I get caught up in the swing. Often times, those experiences – or state of being – allow me to write, which makes me feel better…. Hence the blog posts and the sometimes “Litany of woe”.
I have that quote written on a post-it-note above my desk. It comes from an article written by a friend and co-worker of mine. He coined it to describe the journals of a particular arctic explorer wherein was chronicled the crossing of the Brooks Range mountains in northern Alaska. I loved it when I first read it as it not only perfectly describes the often typical cadence one finds when reading such journals, but it has such a great descriptive presence. I keep it at my desk to remind me that sometimes life is more complicated than not… that it is all one can do sometimes to express exasperation at the hill that never seems to end, the endless hordes of mosquitoes, the spring that never seems to come…etc. And yet, when you finally get to the top of that hill… whatever sort of hill it may have been, you can look around, take in the view, and know that those particular woes are beneath you. There may be more ahead, but now that those have been acknowledged and attended to, you can move on. And if there happens to be fresh snow and you just happen to have a sled, well then…