Protean
It happened the other evening at dinner when just like Siddhartha sitting under the Bodhi tree I had this sudden realization; I was eating this steak thing which came with a salad of cherry tomatoes and mustard sauce, and it suddenly dawned upon me as Johnny Hates Jazz hit the muzak:
I have been oddly attuned to pattern recognition these last few weeks, more than the usual, which in layman’s terms means that the statistics of everything has been shooting through the roof and everybody’s got a significant other in Canada or three.
It’s a thermometer to life itself, whenever you spread out your wings to see the world beyond your nest, quasi-synchronicity-ist events start piling up on your doormat.
Some weird month this July past, Jesus Christ. All of a sudden there were tons of C-130s flying in carrying friends, lovers and family alike, all plural, old and new, into my life, and everybody tweaked up the way I see the world a bit. There is this- I think it’s Chinese- Chinese proverb that says if you save a life, it’s yours forever, and I’m wondering if it could be used on a strictly conceptual level as well, meaning not saving a life per se but actually… well, not really changing it but more like… being a part of it? Integrating it?
What is the term I’m looking for here anyway? It’s the ahh… not connectivity but… the inter-connectiveness of everything?
Is there such a word?
Old man Proteus himself is the herald for the year’s second half, and that’s pretty much the rule of thumb to the way I do things. The first six or seven months, well, it’s the crescendo. It’s the ta-ta-ta-ta-ing of the percussion as the brass inhale and the strings twang.
Come July, August, those guys, it’s like standing on a rocky cliff by the sea under a stormy sky and trying to catch Proteus before he sees you: you plunge forward, he changes shape. He becomes a sea turtle, he becomes a bird, he becomes the sea itself, then flows away free from your grasp and the future lies untold.
…But it hits you like some damn brick wall anyway.
There’s that line from a Kurt Vonnegut novel and it goes like whenever somebody from this (fictional) religion is saying Busy, busy, busy it means the way the Universe is working on its own devices to our lives- something like that.
Well me I’m most certainly busy, busy, busy: I have this funny feeling that I have so much to do but I still don’t know exactly what that much really is.
Today is August 7th, 2006 and July hasn’t ended yet; I still have a movie to rent and a letter to write- then I’ll move on to August per se… then I’ll move on to life itself.
Proteus had forfeited the future; it’s ours if we can just take it.
(Incidentally speaking I think it’s past the time I got myself a girlfriend or something, what do you think?- Sister, will you spare me a place in your dream?)
I have been oddly attuned to pattern recognition these last few weeks, more than the usual, which in layman’s terms means that the statistics of everything has been shooting through the roof and everybody’s got a significant other in Canada or three.
It’s a thermometer to life itself, whenever you spread out your wings to see the world beyond your nest, quasi-synchronicity-ist events start piling up on your doormat.
Some weird month this July past, Jesus Christ. All of a sudden there were tons of C-130s flying in carrying friends, lovers and family alike, all plural, old and new, into my life, and everybody tweaked up the way I see the world a bit. There is this- I think it’s Chinese- Chinese proverb that says if you save a life, it’s yours forever, and I’m wondering if it could be used on a strictly conceptual level as well, meaning not saving a life per se but actually… well, not really changing it but more like… being a part of it? Integrating it?
What is the term I’m looking for here anyway? It’s the ahh… not connectivity but… the inter-connectiveness of everything?
Is there such a word?
Old man Proteus himself is the herald for the year’s second half, and that’s pretty much the rule of thumb to the way I do things. The first six or seven months, well, it’s the crescendo. It’s the ta-ta-ta-ta-ing of the percussion as the brass inhale and the strings twang.
Come July, August, those guys, it’s like standing on a rocky cliff by the sea under a stormy sky and trying to catch Proteus before he sees you: you plunge forward, he changes shape. He becomes a sea turtle, he becomes a bird, he becomes the sea itself, then flows away free from your grasp and the future lies untold.
…But it hits you like some damn brick wall anyway.
There’s that line from a Kurt Vonnegut novel and it goes like whenever somebody from this (fictional) religion is saying Busy, busy, busy it means the way the Universe is working on its own devices to our lives- something like that.
Well me I’m most certainly busy, busy, busy: I have this funny feeling that I have so much to do but I still don’t know exactly what that much really is.
Today is August 7th, 2006 and July hasn’t ended yet; I still have a movie to rent and a letter to write- then I’ll move on to August per se… then I’ll move on to life itself.
Proteus had forfeited the future; it’s ours if we can just take it.
(Incidentally speaking I think it’s past the time I got myself a girlfriend or something, what do you think?- Sister, will you spare me a place in your dream?)
posted by 186282mps at 8:08 AM
<< Home