Self: Observed

And now some words of understanding from a local boy. (OK, so he never lived here, but he is buried in Rockville):

Amory, sorry for them, was still not sorry for himself—art, politics, religion, whatever his medium should be, he knew he was safe now, free from all hysteria—he could accept what was acceptable, roam, grow, rebel, sleep deep through many nights....

There was no God in his heart, he knew; his ideas were still in riot; there was ever the pain of memory; the regret for his lost youth—yet the waters of disillusion had left a deposit on his soul, responsibility and a love of life, the faint stirring of old ambitions and unrealized dreams. But—oh, Rosalind! Rosalind!...

"It's all a poor substitute at best," he said sadly.

And he could not tell why the struggle was worth while, why he had determined to use to the utmost himself and his heritage from the personalities he had passed....

He stretched out his arms to the crystalline, radiant sky.

"I know myself," he cried, "but that is all."

F. Scott Fitzgerald (1896–1940). "Book Two: The Education of a Personage," from This Side of Paradise, 1920.

What I don't understand is why the protagonist seems to be so bummed out about it. Maybe he understands now that ignorance is bliss? Discuss among yourselves.

Brain: Inoculating

From Ending Biblical Brainwash by George Dworsky:

Imagine that you're a psychiatrist. A new patient comes to see you and says that he regularly talks to an invisible being who never responds, that he reads excerpts from one ancient book and that he believes wholeheartedly that its contents must be accepted implicitly, if not taken literally.

The patient goes on to say that that the world is only 6,000 years old and that dinosaurs never existed. He brazenly rejects modern science's observations and conclusions, and subscribes to the notion that after death he will live in eternal bliss in some alternate dimension. And throughout your meeting, he keeps handing you his book and urging you to join him, lest you end up after death in a far less desirable alternate dimension than him.

The above depicts a person with a bad case of this particular virus. Think about the billions of people who have variations both greater and milder. How can they be cured and live conscious lives?

Potential: Unlimited

As Once the Winged Energy of Delight
by Rainer Maria Rilke

As once the winged energy of delight
carried you over childhood's dark abysses,
now beyond your own life build the great
arch of unimagined bridges.

Wonders happen if we can succeed
in passing through the harshest danger;
but only in a bright and purely granted
achievement can we realize the wonder.

To work with Things in the indescribable
relationship is not too hard for us;
the pattern grows more intricate and subtle,
and being swept along is not enough.

Take your practiced powers and stretch them out
until they span the chasm between two
contradictions...For the god
wants to know himself in you.

Lungs: In Need of Reminder

"Remember to BREATHE"

I took this picture at a peaceful landing pad in the California desert: Rimrock Ranch Cabins, which is for sale and sadly I cannot afford it. Perhaps the next time it goes on the market. . . But the advertising copy brings a chuckle, "This is the perfect development opportunity for a yoga/spiritual retreat, upscale spa destination...". This place currently has several small cabins -- glorified, but comfortable, shacks really, which are cooled by swamp coolers (not even AC, but adequate for the average 100 degree plus temperatures outside). The centerpiece of the property is a high-rise deck that you can climb up on to hang out and view the stars at night. Although it sometimes caters to clientele with some money or fame seeking to crash away from it all, there sure ain't no "upscale" there now.

Body: Who's In Charge of This Mess?

From Wired News: People are a Human-Bacteria Hybrid:

Most of the cells in your body are not your own, nor are they even human. They are bacterial. From the invisible strands of fungi waiting to sprout between our toes, to the kilogram of bacterial matter in our guts, we are best viewed as walking "superorganisms," highly complex conglomerations of human, fungal, bacterial and viral cells. . . The scientists concentrated on bacteria. More than 500 different species of bacteria exist in our bodies, making up more than 100 trillion cells. Because our bodies are made of only some several trillion human cells, we are somewhat outnumbered by the aliens. It follows that most of the genes in our bodies are from bacteria, too.

And how many "minds" are at work in all of this activity?

Self: None

"How do you do Nothing?" asked Pooh, after he had wondered for a long time.
"Well, it's when people call out at you just as you're going off to do it:
'What are you going to do, Christopher Robin',
and you say,
'Oh, nothing',
and then you go and do it".
"Oh, I see," said Pooh.
"This is a nothing sort of thing that we're doing now".
"Oh, I see," said Pooh again.
"It means just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering."

A.A. Milne The House at Pooh Corner

Impulses: Programmed to Forage

From Richard Rose's The Albigen Papers:

The robot, from the beginning, was programmed with a catalytic reminder to keep it working. I prefer to call this catalyst an implant. Desire was one. Desire was not an attribute of the mind. The amoeba moves toward pleasant liquids and hurries away from irritating substances. . . So that desire is more of a faculty of the flesh.

Another faculty that seems to be part of the mind is curiosity. The amoeba also demonstrates curiosity. . . If the young calf and kid did not possess this faculty to a high degree they would perish surely before they were able to reason out the purpose of the mother's udders. And this is not a quality in the mind of calf or kid. This is an urge -- a force which drives the host -- leaving the host with little evidence of choice in the matter.

Eyes: Need Candy

Enough poetry. Time for some eye candy, don't you think?

If this is reality too, then what created it?

Thought Patterns: Habit of Desire

Not content in my
Realm and heart,
I watch the
Migrating geese and
Covet their purpose.
I want no less than
the powers
Of the changing seasons,
And of the laughing girl and
Of the honking, flying geese.
I want to breathe in Autumn,
And exhale Summer.
I want flight,
Even as I understand
That the boundary of desire
Is despair,
Even as I understand
That to avoid that ledge
I’ll turn and fly
Toward many others
Before I know that
I Am.

Eyes2: Are Getting Sleepy