Sixty-something woman shares ruminations as she plys the latter third of her life with the caveat that age entitles her to be absolutely outrageous whenever possible.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
What's the use, and other meaningless stuff...
Today I am pondering meaning. Purpose, for the more literary folks out there. Why am I here? Why are we all here? Well, I know that a whole big bunch of things had to happen to bring us together in this cobweb known as civilization. Like, there had to be a BIG moon out there, to keep our little mudball from wobbling too much allowing for stable climate zones so we could stop that annoying hunter/gathering thing and settle where we could grow food. And certain animals had to be domesticated, like dogs who found our garbage better prey than the four legged kind and in gratitude provided a state of the art warning system against intruders and predators. And horses that greatly improved our transportation and hauling capabilities. And cattle who conveniently stayed where we put them and gave us milk and cheese and steaks and leather clothing. Whoopdidoo. So, here we all are, strangely bipedal creatures who are vulnerable just by virtue of walking on two instead of four legs, I mean, all that stuff sort of hanging out there so tenderly, with big brains on top of skinny necks, running the whole show. I just listened to a TED talk about the nature of reality. This is not the first sojourn I have made in this direction. There are times when I am driving somewhere, and feeling how ridiculous this world is, all these fragile creatures encased in metal cages on wheels, hurling themselves forward at alarming speeds, counting on fortunate circumstances to arrive safely wherever they feel compelled to be. Surreal. I have also had more than one moment where I felt that were I not there, there would be no there there. Think about that for a moment. Whatever, this guy on TED says that reality is like icons on my desktop. It lurks behind the imagery. And getting back to purpose, I think I need to cast my reality out into the netherworld, and realize I am in the net, too. Connection. That's my purpose. In some regions of my tiny life, that is not possible. I cannot connect to my mother, who sees me as her Pontius Pilate, perpetually nailing her to the cross of her own construct. That reality is very interesting, and totally a fantasy. Fortunately, there are many who are happy to connect with me, and with whom I am happy to connect. There is a wonder in shared consciousness. Even when it is directly oppositional. Okay, my brain is now sufficiently fried for this Saturday afternoon.