And begin again . . .
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After scanning its face again and again,
I began to scale it, picking my holds
With intense caution. About half-way
To the top, I was suddenly brought to
A dead stop, with arms outspread
Clinging close to the face of the rock
Unable to move hand or foot
Either up or down. My doom
Appeared fixed. I MUST fall.
There would be a moment of
Bewilderment, and then,
A lifeless rumble down the cliff
To the glacier below.
My mind seemed to fill with a
Stifling smoke. This terrible eclipse
Lasted only a moment, when life blazed
Forth again with preternatural clearness.
I seemed suddenly to become possessed
Of a new sense. My trembling muscles
Became firm again, every rift and flaw in
The rock was seen as through a microscope,
My limbs moved with a positiveness and precision
With which I seemed to have
Nothing at all to do.
My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
reach my hands and play with pebbles of
destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
reading “Keep Off.”
My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
in the universe.
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Nothing new under the sun
Nothing new? If they added “Lia” Thomas raising his gorilla arms in victory over a bunch of female swimmers I’d say that’s something new. That was a great video. Cringeworthy moments interspersed with utter beauty. The newspaper landing in front of the blue Cape Cod cracker box might have been the street where my life began. I had to pause the video.
A wonderful collection of moments! Pondering on what is a moment, I think about times when I’m in a stream flyfishing. Though there are collections of moments while in the stream; the take of a fly by a trout, a leap clear of the water from a hooked trout, a scolding by a kingfisher flying upstream, etc.; I often find that wading of a section of the stream seems as if it has only been a moment, and yet it has taken me 2 or 3 hours to cover that section. A moment, filled with moments.
Got so irate over an editorial hoping for the Grand Old Politburo or John Durham to restore the long gone former USA that I ripped up a shirt and some plastic hangars.
A good walkabout after all of that to cool off as nature keeps on rolling no matter what abominations the manboons are up to.
Thanks. It’s easy to forget what a gift it all is.
2:14 .. This is what is now known as a “San Francisco Moment” .. that magical moment when you inadvertenly step on a freshly squeezed pile of human sh*t
The geometricians tell us that a line is made up of an infinite number of points. I would say that a life is made up of an infinite number of moments: some memorable, some forgettable, some cringeworthy, some shameful, some heroic, some cowardly, some magnificent, some terrifying, some glorious. It is such with every man.
And another thing: Time is completely relative. It seldom goes in a straight line. It can curve around; it can slow to a crawl; it can get all twisty and fun-house mirror like. A young Air Force corpsman is told by a Texas Ranger that “the woman in the bathroom is dead. Go see for yourself.” Time for that young man goes all wobbly as he makes his way, step by awful step, to the dead girl. A 12 year old boy sits in a park in the summer. A 12 year old girl sits next to him. With no warning the girl plants a kiss on the boy’s mouth, and time stops for him. His entire life is caught up in that single moment. It becomes as much as part of him as his arm. Fifty-six years later he still remembers. A 19 year old walking across an Air Force base is struck out of the blue with a fierce punch to his face by a 20 year old man. The very next moment the 19 year old is standing above the 20 year old, who lies unconscious on the ground in a pool of his own blood. What happened? Fifty years later the grown man still has no answer. A moment in time lost forever.
Zeno wrote of Achilles and a tortoise. They race. The tortoise goes first, but even fleet-footed Achilles cannot catch him. For every time Achilles reaches a point where the tortoise was, the tortoise has gone farther. Achilles passes an infinite number of points where the tortoise was but is no longer.
Perhaps a man’s life is like that. No matter how many moments in time he has, he cannot catch up to all of them. Only at his death will he see them all. There will be surprises.
Very nice.
I’ve reached that point in my life that I start wondering about my “lasts”. Unless someone is dying, we rarely know that it will be the last time we see them. But for everything we do, there will be a last time. The hard part is enjoying them all as if they are.
Okay, that’s poignant. I know what you mean.
I came to realize the same thought about eight years ago. That realization gets more clear every day now. It’s not pessimism, it’s reality and it is an enlightenment of sorts for me.
Enjoy what we have at the moment.
A gesture is a motion that conveys meaning.
It would be nice to lead a life of gestural gems. Motion pictures usually fail at that, and so this is a good vid for trying to break the mould.
There’s a few Lasts in here:
https://sonar21.com/two-examples-of-russias-use-of-drone-warfare/
Both videos of interest for anyone thinking of the not so distant future at a place near you. The second one showing trench clearing squad tactics when you have an overhead drone view and a bucket full of hand grenades is particularly instructive.
The lesson learned is, *Do not f**k with Russians*. The UKE’s were led to slaughter by a phoney USA .gov group of elected and unelected power hungry, insatiable money hungry criminals. These same criminals are stirring the pot in their own backyard and do not realize it.
The real world is quite deadly and that may soon sink-in to the scrambled skulls in Wash DC.
Let’s you and him fight.