The great migration begins with a consolidation of stuff. Much recycled, some trashed. Recycling is harder than I expected. Costly too. Fortunately I have a funky Dell monitor, so Staples will take it and circuit boards for free.
My tour of the Great Northwest of the Northeast begins after this weekend of horrific celebration. Much drunkenness and explosives. Celebrating free thought and behavior with traditional glorification of armed conflict. "So it goes", to quote one who knows the waste of such endeavors.
Unlike TV shows which usually have a suitable resolution within it's broadcast time frame, situations with people move slowly (if at all) and seldom resolve to the satisfaction of all. Resentment carries through generations, stalling evolution in it's tracks.
Robert Graves, from whom I appropriated and augmented my title, knows of the futility of armies clashing. He went off to Majorca, abandoning all he had been programmed to believe in and relying on his senses and wit wrote gorgeous groupings of words in poems, novels, and letters.
I humbly hope to do the same. I have already abandoned my programming from childhood through adulthood and now rely on my senses and wit. The 5 rivers of Mary Oliver is as sufficient an education as is worthwhile.
With the end of life in this realm closer than the beginning, I feel the need to be true to what I know. Squeegee my third eye and move ahead, allowing evolution to continue and not fight the changes of consciousness or perception.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment