If any beauty is worth appreciating, it’s individual people. via The Beauty of The Details — the dihedral
Since starting real physical therapy this past Tuesday, and riding my Airdyne, I’ve finally been feeling that there really will be an end to this and again I will walk and sleep and cut grass and all the various things a person does every day without thinking about it. Still, I think for a long […]…Read more Better Angels — I’m a Writer, Yes, I Am!
Climbing in the “rain”. via Life is absurd…Life is short! — the dihedral
I am so full of random aches I don't really know where to start. Essentially I have significant osteoarthritis in just about every joint. This rather limits the amount of effort I can put into work. The pain is intermittent. They hurt more when it is cold. They hurt more in bad weather. I can…Read more I am Fortunate
The tortoise must stick his neck out to go anywhere. And any worthwhile journey is going to have dangers. I am going to die. I am at peace with that. Don't know when, don't know how. I do not fear death in any kind of anxious, chronic way. As long as life holds the promise…Read more Fear, Death and Loving Life
It's really quite simple. Really. A happy person is one who sees beauty all around them. Every time you see something beautiful, you get a little burst of happy juice. The more beautiful things you see, the happier you'll be. (Looking in the mirror is nice but not a good single solution.) I suppose one way…Read more The Secret to Happiness.
Sometimes there is heroism in just staying alive. Reblogged from Martha Ann Kennedy’s blog, “I’m a Writer, Yes, I Am!” You really should look at all her other stuff. It is great!
The Heroism of Mere Survival: Old Heroes
Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay, (Housman)
In my geology class at the university of Colorado back in 1972, I learned about the Crossopterygii, a prehistoric lobe-finned, lung fish; its descendants are all of us, but its most direct and (conservative or cowardly) descendants are dubiously hailed as “living fossils.”
As my professor lectured I imagined a fish determined to escape the slowly drying swamps. He was scared, tentative, and lonely. On his way out, he turned back to his wife, pleading with her to join him. “Honey! Come on. It will be ok.”
She answered (in my story), “You’re crazy! We’ll die! We’re fish!” (Here I will point out that every animal was fish, fish food or both.)
“Look around you! We’re going to die down there. Look at all those corpses!”…
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