Skip to main content

Thoughts upon this evening's stroll

My feet fall upon  pavement. The sound changes to a quiet thud when I leave pavement for grass, earth. My eyes move skyward, this sky lacks light. Save for the stars. Stars glow, brutal furnaces flickering gently, silently. They strangely beckon me, who can not reply. Upon this rock,  far from the center of anything, galaxy-wise, much less regarding the universe. Away, away they sit, gentle blue glowing spots upon the once blue sky. Watching me, calmly. Do they see this once boy, walking under the few remaining wisps of cloud, stretched thinly, not quite hiding the ancient eyes.

Orion's gaze the most familiar. Memories from boyhood, back upon the grass, eyes drinking deep those ever present dots. Staying upon the shapes my parents, their parents, all humanity that's ever been, they've all seen the same shapes. Though they, too, change, their slowness taxes the mind to consider. My life barely a suffer. Humanity's entire experience too recent to register.  Pale blue dreams across the winds of history.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Driving along in Kirkland , home of the modern yuppie, I’m passed by a new Mercedes. Lovely, silver, shiny, new, bling-bling; a part of me loaded with insecurity twinges while I purr along in my Toyota. Why? How come this is a metric of my self-esteem? Am I being unfair to myself, being upset by this train of thought and it’s influence? Consider, please, how much this viewpoint is drilled into us. Look at how often this imagery gets pushed into our faces, and how long that’s been going on. It shouldn’t surprise me, really, that I sometimes feel this way. Though my conscious values oppose this, the lingering thread of this programming has threads into the depths psyche.

Oh, A Meeting We Will Go

This post gives me pause. Meetings, the infernal overwrought obsession of our lives. It's not just corporate America, but the various groups and org's I've dallied with over the years suffer from meetopia, too. No one I know likes the blasted things, yet I don't know anyone offering up a successful resistance. Related to this, methinks, I have noted that I do a great deal over my workdays (check off a ridiculous number of to-dos) and accomplish little or nothing. The mass of tasks don't roll up to anything. And I've noticed a lingering sense of frustration lately. I spend precious little time reflecting on my goals, and how I can link them to what I do over the course of any given day. I'm so divorced from this, I really wonder what I really want to do, to accomplish any more. Within a recess of my brain comes a niggling thought. Perhaps this passion for meetings offers up a substitute for reflection. Knowing that we must account, personally, face-to-face f...