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.

Hay Bale

The cat brought to me a lizard, minus tail. A striped skink, now belonging to the outdoors.

Svelte fingers on piano keys serenade me via MP3 (V. Horowitz or M.M. Whatley).

Cascading sheets of wind stir the tree limbs.

A butterfly skims over the sunroom.

Have you ever analysed the packaging that contained an item shipped to you? How it was designed, cut, and assembled? Do you consider the industries that pop up around a major manufacturer?

If 60% of aluminium canisters are recycled, is there value in becoming an onsite recycler at a landfill or waste receptacle facility?

How much waste (lost profit/income) do we generate in our daily lives through serving our need for personal comfort/convenience? When we eat, what price do we pay for sanitation in packaging/cleaning material?

How much money do you go through in 30 days? How might you have spent/saved it another way?

Surrogate motherhood and nannies - where are we going with the separation of work/leisure from parenting? What are the long-term consequences? What did previous civilisations become/discover in such situations?

I have separated myself from the Book of the Future and certain colleagues/associates in order to claim ignorance of upcoming events. "Leave no paper trail," a former boss once told me, "and credit/blame goes to the pigeons with their necks stuck out."

That's why recent blog entries wander all over the place, switchbacks and dead branches covering up my tracks.

What they don't know will hurt you more than it will hurt them, I'm sorry to say.

Frozen Spoonful Of Hormonal Goodness

Guess keeping unnatural cow products out of our diet is the best way to avoid problems?  Maybe:

Is Your Favorite Ice Cream Made With Monsanto's Artificial Hormones?

What is a fact worth?

Bats on the decline..

Bees and bats - are they the canaries in the mine?  If so, what is the future for the miners?

America’s Most Common Bat Headed for Eastern Extinction

Regardless of your position on climate change, the mix of species upon which we interdepend makes a difference in what we can "refudiate," does it not?