Friday, April 27, 2007

For the Record . . .
My Favorite Blogs are:

1. Dorcus Smucker's funny life in the shoe 2.the weirdness at supergirlemzel 2a. the movies at tikkitikkitembo 3. the honest future astronaut 4. Jenny's anecdotal evidence at baileyandme 5. my fledgling brother's experiances which are better than drugs

Holding Hands

Last Sunday we stayed home and walked in the park. We walked past squirrels squirreling around in last years leaves, past woodpeckers pecking on different sorts of wood so as to make different pecking sounds, so said Jennifer, not using different sized beaks to make African tribal music. There were spring flowers and spring green sprouts sprouting everywhere. The world seemed happy and so were we. Sunning ourselves like iguanas on our favorite rocks. I asked Jennifer to marry me in that park on one of those mica-flecked rocks. I'm glad she said yes almost three years ago.

We talked about so many things. We talk all the time so its hard to remember when we say what we say when I try to write about it. But we talked about how being self-conscious actually means being other-conscious or being-conscious-of-our-self-in-relation-to-others. Which makes me wonder why we don't read poetry out loud to each other. Too embarrassing? We talked about how she feels she has become less interesting. I'm becoming more philosophical, less dogmatic, she says, while she is thinking less and working more. But I wish I would be making a contribution to society like she is -- helping old people to function the way their minds want but their bodies deny. I feel like I'm cultivating my own interests so much, and not others: studying Chinese, people, and thought. I guess we all claim different positions in the cultural field of life as Bourdieu would say if he wasn't dead, but some are more in-tune with the nature of things I think. Maybe someday my occupation will include more helping people.

I like that we agree about so many things. Like that we are here to make the world a place better than when we came. That seeing and listening to the pain of others and feeling their joy is what it means to be a-live; that, and walking in a vibrant park on a Sunday morning holding hands.
We do that for the same reason that birds sing.


Blogger Dorcas said...

Just so you know, I tagged you on my blog. Because you make me think. Imagine that.

12:39 PM  
Anonymous jewel miller said...

Sigh.... I just came over from Doras Smucker's blog and what a treat! "We hold hands for the same reason birds sing." I LUV it!

1:58 PM  

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