Archive for February 2010
Another Thing
It is what it is
Brainstorms hosts a private webconferencing community for knowledgeable, civil, adult, fun conversation about technology, the future, life online, culture, society, family, history, books, health, home, mind, phun, money, spirituality, media, and academiaville.
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Brainstorms is where I spend the majority of my online time. It is something that works well for those who are attracted to communicating in writing in a similar vein to when long distance communication was done by writing letters. You tell stories and describe things for someone to read and consume, and the audience isn’t just one person, but all members. And there is no waiting for what you have written to travel through the postal system. It’s like having 600 pen pals at your convenience! It has become one of my variety of communities. My online community. The one that reaches around the world.
From a Brainstorm
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just like any other day
playing online
@ http Howard’s living room
it could be
discussing to caption a photo
or not
in a way
it is everything!
posted every time before
both perspectives valid
in the right
certainly not wrong
to be heard
impelled to respond
implored to explain
insert statements reiterated
and materializing to view
a familiar design
echoing contentious exchanges galore
religion
abortion
politics
gay people marrying
fracturing off at angles
threading into unrelated items
or uncontrollably summoning
that reference to Hitler
framed in righteous indignation
of wishing the best for all
ultimately
as we wield our human frailty
with gestures of respect
each in different ways
leave out letters of a word
not capitalizing a name
yet self-centered we all remain
ignored we often claim
passive
aggressive
veiled intimidation
plausible deniability
and still a value is sustained
inspiring our return
to play online again
just like we did the time before
as each new day recalls
that eternal springing hope
we felt the very first time
we happily discovered
Howard’s brilliant turn of phrase
that up to us, is what it is!
and dipped our bashful toes
in the pool of his virtual world
where we now come play online
like so many other days before
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How Hard?
How hard could it have been to accomplish what it was we set out to do the first time we landed one of those moments of inspiration that transcend the usual impulse to disavow any knowledge of the reason for following more of our intuition than logic reasonably allows? Not that I know anything about that. For all the solutions that appear to fit the formula for fixing the multitude of sins, it ends up being the least anticipated outcome that evades our lucky glance and smashes into view unannounced behind a shower of highly volatile serendipity that is casually disregarded in a quest to out-think surprises for some vain simulation of what we think reality is supposed to be. Slowly, but surely, the rest of what is destined to transpire, in spite of our noble attempts to engineer obedient allowance, falls precisely where it would obviously land anyway, whether or not we try to orchestrate it. Having the stamina to outwait the ultimate momentum of outcomes is like knowing the secret of which one of the many answers is the actual meaning of everything that is anything. How hard is it to mine the courage to become better than that which could easily be considered adequate by all standards? It hides within the smile that is shared, as much as with the eyes as with the whole of the rest of our being and shines much farther than we ever imagine might be possible. Or not. It’s hard to tell for sure from this angle.
Mirrorless World?
Sometimes, I just can’t help myself thinking about strange ways the world might be different, if only…
What if there were no mirrors in the world?
In my opinion, the less time spent in front of a mirror, the less one becomes inclined to feel a need to spend time in front of a mirror. I don’t expect this to be something that will change anyone’s opinion about the subject. There’s no reason to believe that someone already accustomed to tending to their appearance in front of the mirror would find any reason within a silly mental exercise like mine here, to accept there exists any possible alternative in the civilized world to the tasks they perform daily before the looking glass.
First off, in a world without mirrors, think of all the time people would be able to reclaim from their daily routine of preparation. Second, spend a moment calculating how much money you could save in cosmetics and care products.
You would appear to others as the person you were born to become. What I can’t visualize is, how personalities might differ in the absence of our usual attention to appearance. Have you noticed how much better you feel when you think you look good? Would we lose that edge, or would we just always feel okay with ourselves, since we’d have no visual reason to think otherwise? People who don’t currently match the latest trends in the beauty and fashion world wouldn’t have any way to judge that they might not fit the mold and that may just prove more valuable than can be measured.
This gives you something to think about next time you find yourself doing what it is you do during all that time you spend in front of the mirror.
If only…
Curl This
Against my own inclination to choose not to write about something that is already getting more than enough attention, I’m going to toss out my thoughts about the curling event that is getting plenty of television coverage by NBC in the US this Olympics. One of the first things that surprises me is how many folks I have heard from who are revealing themselves to be great fans of what they are seeing. Even as they admit they don’t entirely grasp all the details, they are nonetheless fascinated with watching.
I have mixed feelings. The first time I was exposed to it, in a previous Olympics, I found myself mesmerized and drawn to want to see more. I described myself as a fan. This year, upon further review, I have to admit, I’m not getting it. Suddenly, I’m finding the hollering: “yep-nope-yep-no, no, yep, no, HAAAARRRDD!, HARD!, HARD!!” to be a bit too schizophrenic for me to handle. Especially when the two people yelling, one from each of the opposite ends, are giving conflicting commands.
With the action interspersed with so much inactivity, I figure it should be an event ripe for multi-task viewing. I was definitely wrong. Every time I looked up during one recent match, there was nothing there. No stones in the house. I could hear shouting and stones being delivered, but by the time I looked up, nothing. Then I hear cheering and excitement and I look to find the cheering is for another match happening on the adjacent space, off camera. The members of the team I was watching are standing around, leaning on brooms, strategizing.
As for scoring, I am embarrassed that something so simple continues to evade me. When I’m trying to figure out which stones are going to count for points, players are pulling them off and tossing them to the side, not to be counted. Other times, similar stones might be left in play. Then, somehow no points will be granted for an end. I’ve no clue.
I must admit that I am bugged that for this “sport” the network offers full audio of the participants, something that helps me very little since I can’t understand their logic or their lingo, and often times, even their language. For my whole life, I have wished for this same opportunity to hear what the discussion is out on the pitcher’s mound in baseball or in the huddles and coaching instruction circles of basketball and football.
My biggest problem is that curling is like a different version of chess. They are making immediate decisions based on what will be happening multiple moves later in each “end”. I have no sense of what will be happening later, so I take each individual delivery and result on its own. Entirely underwhelming. It doesn’t provide much in the way of what I value in a spectator sport.
As much as I want to be a fan, I am more frustrated than not. I say, bring on the hockey games. That, I understand.
Sad Reality
Yesterday, when I did the laundry, I was presented with a vivid depiction of a brutal reality I am currently facing. Happily, it wasn’t a decline of my mental balance that was bringing this to my attention.
If you research the word addiction, you can find that it isn’t automatically framed as a negative affliction. For many years I have been playing indoor soccer early in the morning, three days a week. It provides a combination of physical exercise and social camaraderie to which I can admit being addicted. It happens to be one of the primary activities that I undertake to manage ongoing depression without medication. And when I play three times a week, it creates a lot of laundry that needs to be washed on a regular basis. When I picked up the basket of dirty clothes, there was hardly anything within. It being a day of rest from the normal day-job work week, I had enough free time to pick up around the house. One area that was long overdue for attention was my mystery pile of clothes that have collected from the returning clean laundry and the things I’ve worn recently, but don’t require washing. There I found stacks of the shirts, socks and shorts that I wear for morning soccer. With a heavy heart, I put it all away for now, wondering how long it might be until I can return to my favorite pastime.
In two more days, it will be two weeks since I injured my hamstring. The first weekend after the injury was really promising and I had high hopes that the damage was minor and that I might not have far to go to rehabilitate it. But for the last week, I have suffered a confusing series of signals leaving me unclear about what’s going on. Part of what happens is I detect discomfort from other areas that are either referred pain, or irritation from ways I move in compensation, or a result of my icing and compression regimen. I’ve done some research and am encouraged over recommendations for massage to speed recovery and allow correct fibre realignment and minimize scar tissue. I was under the impression that massage should wait until later, but I would like to begin as soon as is safe. I will now set my mind to working a routine of stretching and strength building within the limits of pain-free range.
Unfortunately, it is a far cry from the fun and fellowship of which I am being deprived.
Consider This
There is hardly enough time to fully grasp the depth of each and every subtle nuance that forms the ultimate substance of all that we experience in our lives every day. What little time there is for such an extraordinary accomplishment is fractured into a seemingly infinite variety of supernatural moments that curiously become dulled by our distinctly finite ability to parse what is not only right before our eyes, but actually within our very being. Whether or not a person pauses in attempt to consider more than what meets the eye, the moments pass by in what appears to us as an ever-increasing pace. There is dust that collects on every surface available, a bright red color of a cereal box, sounds from a television that was never shut off, a rainbow spectrum refracting through icicles dangling from eves, someone is dying and babies are born. Life does not depend on our willingness to contemplate. At any given point in time the people of the world operate from a dramatically broad range of attention to detail for things less than obvious and what is obvious to one person is far from guaranteed to be remotely apparent to another. It is really a profound accomplishment that we are able to successfully communicate with even our own extended family, let alone the number of strangers we interact with as we navigate our way in the world. Most people rarely notice the miracles they are living every moment of each and every boring, regular day.
Today
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seemingly insignificant questions linger
delicately
amid all else happening
as day upon day slams past
despite our failing effort to fully grasp
how simple everything really is
like how relatively fast the ice is melting
and how often fresh oil is needed in the car
or why I can’t part with an impression
I developed when I was a kid
of a dream girl who actually lives in my dreams
by showing up every now and again
even though I’m beyond that by far
as if something that I never did
might somehow render the glorious scenes
I have in fact quite consciously lived
not as real as I know that they are
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Looking for Color
February photo series to counteract the monochrome impression that develops over time…
Relative Something 