Writing toward crystallization of narrative plots to something more like poetry. Poetry is for adepts, but anyone can tell a story, right?
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Nothing at all to say today
So, what do you mean I just shouldn't say it? Should, you mean? Nothing at all.
I started Brief Interviews with Hideous Men and it's just too painful to read. (someone just told me my blog is just too painful to read). But knowing the ending and all.
I just put actual information in my "profile". Who knows why. I guess I'm trying to resolve my life. To get it together. To find something to do now which allows full disclosure, even if it doesn't pay so well. I guess I might still go to jail if I don't pay those child support bills, but at least now it's more between my daughter and me, since she can vote if not, absurdly, drink. And her Mom doesn't exactly need the money.
But I wonder what I'll do without the necessity for doing it? I guess I'll just have to find a way to do what's needs doing in the world. Like most of you (who am I writing to anyhow?) I find scant time to peruse this brave new blogosphere, but when I do it's hard not to be struck by how earnestly folks want to help to make things better.
The world is camping out now, it would seem, between the Bible Word and all the rest. Along with newspapers seem to die all the bloviated main-stream apologies for how things have to be. It's striking, or maybe it's just my random sample error, how few people dare to voice what angry syndicated voices blare. Most are so much more quietly insistent on things like urban sustainability, corrections to public idiocy,and filling out their daytime jobs with the passion which must get left behind at home.
How can this not be hopeful? Even the misguided angry voices represent energy which can and should and must be turned, by some deft jujitsu redirecting, toward our common good. I would be angry too, to hold on to what I've got, especially if I felt hoodwinked that it's all been undermined. I'd engage in wild conspiracy theorizing too if I didn't understand all too well what's really going on. Not understand. I'm no genius. But it's so transparently obvious.
I guess that it's no mystery why passions simmer unresolved, and marches on Washington will never quite approach that recent celebration of what so many could agree was a very good thing indeed. But there seems a passion bubbling more quietly here. That might yet be resolved to action.
I think it scares me, maybe even most because the Jesus' Word attached will be so loathe to let it go. They'll see it as some end in time, and want to spin it their way. A jilted lover, they won't be able to release their grief that Jesus never did or would return for them, despite their certainty. That hanging on to literal truth cost them the ticket to revelation that he could already be there within, and wanted only to release their own true earnest humanity.
I fear these Creationist types who are blinded to evolution's marvels, still carrying on in full glory right before their eyes. I fear the denial of science and its collective rendering of what we must agree upon (that is what science is). I fear that, jilted, they'll go after anything that moves.
. . . just as much as I fear the closing off of heart by head among those who mistake the loud religionists for the more truly open. The baby thrown out with bathwater (an oh too literal rendering of that figure) as inevitable conclusion to looking back across our history. That each one of us could be that alone, and want it.
Because that is a misreading of both how evolution works and how religion doesn't (vice versa?).
So, tentatively now, I want to learn how to proclaim this obvious truing, without loosing atomic disappointment on the world. We want so much to be our very own selves, and loved for that alone. Even when there is so much more comfort in the obverse (I struggle with logical terms):That there is always a sea of love in which to dissolve, full stop (I long for the secretary I once did have - it guaranteed the punctuation, spelling, and productivity so much more than does this infernal technology).
That there is truly nothing more to be discovered. Invented surely, for transforming this natural life into something monstrous of our own creation in blatant competition with our God. It will be sad to lose my mother.
So, scientifically now, it's all just politics. I refer only to basic science, of course. In the world of its application, the sky's the limit. But we do now have real choice for the first time in a long long while.
I mean simply this. That the time is gone when we could attribute inevitability to our own reaction to what we thought we'd discovered in the wild. That same inevitability we'd thought was "progress" and that we misidentified with Time's Arrow through evolution. There is no direction to these moves, or if there is, it surely isn't domination which represents its end. Well, except literally.
There is a different mapping for our moves, which can't be gotten experimentally or by expedition.