Time is standing still .... when do we leave?

"Time is standing still" and "when do we leave" not only are comments which conceivably might be made by this casual crew of seagulls gathering here, but are among the lyrics in the second song posted today. That song is "Stargazer." The music is fantastic; the performance is pure fun; the video is a tiny masterpiece. Talent is where you find it. The first song posted is "Street of Dreams." Both songs are by the band Rainbow, although the vocalist in the first is Joe Lynn Turner and the singer in the second is Ronnie James Dio. It seemed like "Street of Dreams" sort of went with what I wrote, and "Stargazer" sort of went with what I thought while I was writing what I wrote. Or thought. Or whatever.

What if tomorrow were yesterday?

Strictly speaking, there is a present. 

You know, in the sense of past, present and future.

But, by the time you finish reading these words, the present will be part of the past and gone forever.

So, is the present more or less than the blink of an eye?

I am not certain what I am trying to say beyond wondering if there actually is a present. Everything is moving too quickly for the present to exist except in an instant immeasurably impossible to realize .

I know someone who says she lives for today. I can understand that and realize that on the one hand, but, on the other hand, today only exists on a man-made clock of planetary measurements. In terms of conscious life, there is only past and future.

At the moment, I am trying to decide which one I belong to or, maybe, which one belongs to me, because the present is a dream.

If these questions are easy for you to answer, I do not wonder about you, but I do worry about you.

Then, too, I am not so sure that the past is gone forever or that the future has not already been. Remember, I belong to the "time is like a flowing river" school of thought.

A passage in the "Hovamol"

from the "Poetic Edda"

recorded for posterity by Snorri Sturluson

A little sand  has a little sea,
And small are the minds of men;
Though all men are not equal in wisdom,
Yet half-wise only are all.

 

A few words can mean a lot

Johnny Cash once sang a song in which the lyrics went like this:
"How high's the water, mama? Two feet high and risin';
"How high's the water, papa? Two feet high and risin'."

I might imagine these Canada Geese working their way south for the winter have been asking the same question about the Minnesota River, except it appears to be "rising in reverse," so to speak. Since the river bank normally reaches to the larger rocks and the tree line, it is evident that the level of the river was considerably higher last spring than it was when October began and this photograph was taken. Nature rules, so, "Where is the water, mama?"

The art of conducting a conversation

Speaking as a man who, until the past few years, has seldom lived alone during his life, I am not sure why anyone would choose to do so.

When I was a boy, there always were parents and grandparents present. As a young man in college, I usually lived with three or four other young men, and even with a young wife for a while. Wives and children -- along with a couple of "almost wives" -- sort of covers my adult years until 2007. Then came another divorce and, with the exception of a few months in Poland during 2010, no company for me.

Now, since I am alone, I basically talk to myself. Sometimes, there is a two-way conversation. For a while in the latter months of 2010, I found myself using profanity -- usually several words -- in virtually every sentence I spoke when I was by myself. I spoke out loud at times; to myself at other times, but profanity was always there.

As time went on, I began to speak out loud more often while talking with myself, generally employing my version of a "foreign" or American regional accent. A southern inflection or a western drawl are my favorites. Or, I might try a German or a Norwegian brogue, sounding like many "old-timers" around here do as a result of having spoken those languages in their homes as children. For the sake of political correctness, I will stop there.

More recently, I have gone to carrying on the two-way conversations rather than simply speaking out loud. Many, if not most, are in the form of a straight man and a funny man chattering back and forth. Or, I pose a situation which requires resolution and ask myself to find one.

So, the question is, when will these habits stop or, if they do not stop, what will come next? Talking out loud to myself; including much profanity while I speak to myself; carrying on two-way conversations with myself .... what could possibly come next?

Or, the other possibility, of course, is that perhaps I will find another companion -- someone to talk with, to carry on long, wonderful conversations with .... someone to keep me in line.

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Still no words from me .... too lost in thoughts of tomorrows & of rainbows