Ok, so it took me awhile to realize this.
Not everyone knows what I am thinking.
Please, allow me to explain.
When I think, I am usually thinking in distinct and sometimes also intertwined layers. There is usually the metaphysical layer, then the metaphorical layer, then the background layer, then also the present layer. Often past and future are working as sublayers too, but sometimes they are layers distinct.
The background layer is the layer under present analysis. I often take it for granted d that other people have at least a similar thought about the things we see or share. In this layer, I have been steadily been partitioning more and more assume Co – experiential thoughts. But not so.
The mysterious Other is more separate to me and my experience. My thoughts are not their thought. Their thoughts are not mine. We are distinct. We are to each ‘the other’. Neither is the dream of the other.
Sorry White King, keep to your dreaming in Wonderland but your solipsistic sovereignty can never be.
This makes things like love, understanding, language, linguistics, and unity either truly remarkable or impossible without the right catalyst.
It turns out that sharing a house with someone sometimes brings out my inner two year old – in all her tantrumous glory.
Excuse me while I go plan my sheet fort.
And not share any of my icecream or toys.
Yes, frailty thy name is human.
Let me tell you a secret. I am a grammarian and I am also a spelling nazi. The title caused me physical and mental pain to type.
There they’re on their holiday but ware the were, who knows where it is?
The mayor has a mare.
Aren’t homophones fun?
Shall I continue?
The point of this is that people should proofread their emails, texts, and websites because I am watching. I am always watching.
I am not really always watching – just sometimes.
I could be a superhero vigilante named ‘The Grammarian’ and my skill could be ninja strikes on bad grammar. That is how I cope with this fractured grammatical reality.
so next thyme ewe useincorekte spelinge or granma, I am planning my sneak attack.
Recently, I had the privilege of making a new friend. She is 3 months old today and likes music, dancing, laughing, and cuddles. She is fascinated by the sounds that magpies make and although the is not yet to the stage of laughing at them, she probably will one day. Why do I think this?
Because she has a good sense of humour already.
I have decided these facts are true of her. This brings me to another thought. I wonder how much of my new friend’s knowledge and experience of the world will be shaped by her relationships. Probably, quite a lot. After all, humans are social creatures.
How much of my knowledge and experience are shaped thus?
And yet, this is not bewildering to acknowledge. This does make relationships important. This makes investing in loving, truth – filled relationships very important. That is a little bit of a challenge.
It is so easy to stop and smell the Roses, but how many of us do? And if we do, is it not a little clouded with, I wish they were mine? Ah those metaphorical roses do seem sweeter in someone else’s garden.
We are prone to forget our own. We have so much. The fact that you are reading this means that you are richer than about 90% of the world’s population. You probably have enough food and clothes, somewhere safe to live, you are probably not in immediate danger from religious or ethnic persecution, you probably have some sort of education, you have access to the Internet and free time.
And that is just the beginning.
I have a job, family and friends. Loose change (good bye uni student days). It may not sound like much, but it should. Too long have we believed lies about needing everything new and flashy, or maybe it masquerades as ‘financial security’. It is good, but not as the main thing in life. It is a tool, a means to an end, not an end in itself.
So make a list. The five finger ed list is fine. Make a list about what are thankful for. And it makes sense to thank the person who gave them to you. In most cases (I think ‘all’), God is the benefactor.
I hate shopping.
Shoe, grocery, and furniture shopping annoy me.
I do, however, like shopping for vegetables and fruits and hardware.
Today, though, I met my arch nemesis.
Be very afraid.
It is the soul-crushing women’s clothing section.
OK, so that is probably an over-exaggeration but I feel like so many clothing designers are out to sabotage my sense of self and the ones who aren’t are out to sabotage my budget. I have taken to repeating the mantra “I am not what I wear” when I even see a shop sign now.
And vogue styles can be nonsensical or just plain hideous. What is with the leggings being worn as pants? Strange floral patterns everywhere? Och, my eyes.
I like flowers and floral patterns can be chic and elegant, but overcrowded patterns make me feel stressed.
Anyway, I think I might take up building my own clothes.
And why do I hate shopping? Because there are more exciting things to do. Like bake or sew, read or write. 2nd Hand Bookstores are a very notable exception, but I have banned myself until I read the 400+ books collecting dust in my library and spare room.
I walked in Autumn, among the fallen stars,
I saw the dreams and a thousand dormant promises.
I heard the silent screams and scars,
I was there to see who the harshest heart misses.
And I walked alone among the trees,
There were no birds
No sunshine to warm the breeze,
Just the friendless Grey
And the weary sun as it hurts.
When will I lay this down to rest, never to rise,
And I am alive to hope as she cries.
She, Hope’s child,
She, the beautiful and wild.