Beans and Cole Slaw

Dry autumn day, chickadees looking for seeds or water where none exist.

I imagine I am one of seven billion, do I not? I have no proof otherwise, do I?

I sit here, literally surrounded by wood - in living trees, house siding, books and furniture.

The universe is not only about me.

With hundreds of languages available to me, I am running out of word combinations to make myself feel unique.

Why is the universe not about me? Because it will exist after this "I" with which I am familiar no longer exists.

What of me, this "I"?

Do I know what I think I know? I will only ever think so.

How can I take seriously what I know is what it is without qualification?

The birds are here because it is the time of day they choose to be here. Perhaps I should remove the empty bird feeders and make the birds spend their energy looking at actual food sources rather than dried-up hulls of thistle/nyger seed and dry bird baths.

No matter. They will leave soon as our planet rotates into and out of the light of our star.

I am unimportant. I have no talents or gifts to give my fellow species. My melancholy will end when I will be no more, my bonded energies free at last.

I am tired of spending every morning finding an excuse to be alive. Time has not healed the wounds of natural loss, only twisted them into creative output in outlets like this blog.

I already know the big picture. I know I will not pretend to aspire to dreams in my thoughts of taking trips around the moon in a travel cruiser. I am not enough of a megalomaniac-type to force/bend the world of my species to my will.

I am a simple man, with simple needs and an idle brain, happy to let others carry on, to bother with the pretense there is more here than meets the interaction of states of energy.

I am an amateur humourist reflecting the zeitgeist in inexact terms.

I have found no way out of the moment. History books, war books, fiction or nonfiction, are still books. Reality does not go away regardless of the promise of technology to get us away from it all.

In other words, time to get away from technology and enjoy the real world again. Feel dirt under my feet. See unusual lichen patterns. Listen to the crunch of the forest floor.

Pardon my silence. I want selfish time to myself - stop pretending that I have some important place in new social media - and breathe the dust and pollen of fall air.