This Friday’s Aphorism

I explain what aphorisms are in the introduction to the post just below this one on my “Post Index.” To see that post, click “My Previously-Published Aphorisms” at the bottom of this one under “Related.”

Each Friday, when I upload a new aphorism, I move the previous Friday’s to the end of the aphorisms in that other post. This will keep those aphorisms in chronological order, and at times they might even seem to grow out of the ones above.

At other times, however, I will simply be adding a thought that occurred to me during the week. And those thoughts might well repeat or even contradict previous thoughts.

 

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200117 – Religion-Poems

You can’t put an infinite number of marbles into a finite box.

You can’t put an infinite number of believers into a finite number of sanctuaries.

You can’t put an infinite anything into a finite anything.

But the human mind is finite, the conscious mind, at least.

And God is infinite. Actually he’s beyond infinite. Infinity is a human concept, an idea, and God is definitely beyond human ideas.

So now what?

Well, I can sense that divine power sometimes, especially when I’m in the zone where the conscious mind and the unconscious mind overlap, and especially when I’m on the unconscious side of that zone. And when I’m quiet. And when I’m waiting.

But then what?

How can I ever describe that Indescribable?

How can I ever know that Unknowable?

How can I even think about that which is beyond thought?

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

To all three questions, the answer is, I can’t.

But that Unknowable, which I’m part of, I would have to be, might help me out when I’m in that cross-over zone and quietly waiting.

And image might come to me from my unconscious mind. And another time, another image.

And after a while all those images might begin to coalesce into something more substantive, in the same way that images, which come to a poet, might gradually coalesce into a poem.

But the images in his poem can only ever hint at what they know.

And likewise, the images that come to me from my unconscious mind can only ever hint at that which is beyond words.

However, like the poet, I can put my images together into a Poem, a Poem with a capital “P,” which I might use to remind myself that there is an Unknowable, a power beyond human thought.

And like the poet, who adds prosodic devices, such as metaphors and rhyme, to enrich his poem, to make it more substantive and more meaningful, I, too, can enrich my Poem by adding things to it.

That, of course, is exactly what’s been happening over the millennia with everyone else’s capital “P” Poems.

And the images in all those enriched, added-to Poems have gradually segued into religions: Zoroastrianism, Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism, Confucianism, and Christianity, to name a few.

Yet none of those Religion-Poems could ever hope to do anything but hint at the Unknowable, even though they all grew epic in size with their rituals, and doctrines, and dogmas, and symbols, and hierarchies of clergy.

Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, the zealots forgot that they were simply attempting to put together a few images that had come to them from the depths of their unconscious minds, images that they could use to remind themselves that there is a power beyond human thought. A power they couldn’t even begin to imagine or to describe. A power that is absolutely unknowable.

And because they forgot this, they came to believe that they, and perhaps they alone, could, indeed, put an infinite number of marbles into a finite box.

Put and an infinite number of believers into their finite number of sanctuaries.

That zealotic presumption has caused untold tragedies over the centuries, and untold myriads of diabolic deaths.

Not in the name of the Unknowable, for sure.

But solely in the name of my-way-is-the-right-and-the-only-way.

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(© 2020 Glenn Christianson. All rights reserved.)

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My Previously-Posted Aphorisms

At the beginning of August 2019, I decided to try writing aphorisms. It might not work for me. But that’s OK. I’ve failed in lots of endeavors before. And, in fact, I believe that failure is a very, very good thing.

It helps steer you in the direction you should be going.

There may be nothing more unfortunate than succeeding at things you don’t truly love, or perhaps even dislike, intensely. Because if you persist, you end up wasting much of your life.

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An aphorism is a single thought or observation that is stated in as few words as possible. A well-known example is Nietzsche’s, “And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” Or Abraham Lincoln’s, “Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the ax.”

Many, many writers over the centuries have used this aphoristic style. Some claim Francis Bacon, 1561-1626, was the best at it. Others disagree. And there are also a number of greats who preceded Bacon. Burchard of Worms and Juan Manuel are two excellent examples.

My favourite aphorists, however, are Nietzsche and Leonardo da Vinci.

And it’s quite liberating for me that Leonardo says in Volume 1 of his Notebooks that he’s just going to write down his thoughts as they occur to him, in no particular order, but perhaps later on he might try to arrange them by subject.

And he further adds that he’s not going to worry about repeating himself or contradicting himself. That’s inevitable over time, he says.

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So here’s my first:

190809 – Our Unconscious Self

What if Nietzsche is right when he says that almost all of who you are is located deep down in your unconscious mind? And that the activities of that Self, your true Self, are unfelt, and unknown, and unknowable?

And what if he’s right when he says that who you think you are, at the conscious level, has been carefully determined by your socialization?

That you’ve been brought up to accept and to internalize the values of the herd?

And what if who you are at the conscious level is not even close to who you really are deep down in your unconscious?

What then? Is there any way to reconcile those two selves, to get them more in sync with each other?

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

And my second:

190816 – The Zone

What if there is no clear-cut line dividing my unconscious mind from my conscious mind? What if there’s a continuum, instead, that runs from my purely unconscious to my purely conscious? Would that mean that there’s an overlap zone?

And if there is, . . ..

 

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And my third:

190823 – The Little Kid

And if there is an overlap zone, and if my true Self really does live deep down in my unconscious, wouldn’t it make sense for me to live in that zone as much as possible? As close to my true Self as much as possible?

And what if my most precious ideas and inspirations come from that Self, not from a spirit such as a daimonion, or a genie, or a muse, as the ancients thought?

If so, then I need to spend more time being still, and quietening my conscious mind, and waiting.

Think of it this way:

A little kid comes running up out of my unconscious with a note for me. But he doesn’t see me, and he’s come as far as he dares.

Finally, he turns and goes back.

I was reading, perhaps, or visiting with someone, or listening to music, or working on my budget for the month. I was mostly in my conscious mind.

If I had been in the overlap zone, though, he could have given me that note.

But I failed him. And I failed myself.

My job, as I see it, if I’m going to bring my conscious self and my unconscious Self closer together, is to spend less time around noisy distractions: malls, traffic, newspapers, magazines, emails, the radio, the television, most music, my iPhone, and on and on, ad infinitum.

Otherwise, if I’m never in that overlap zone, quiet, and waiting, I’ll end up missing the little kid with all his notes. And eventually, he’ll give up on me. And eventually, I’ll forget that I ever knew anything about him or about my true Self. And I’ll be reduced to nothing but a mindless member of the herd leading what Aristotle describes as a bovine existence.

 

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And my, etc:

190830 – Bonhoeffer

What if Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the great German theologian who was hanged by Hitler, is saying the same thing when he says that we cannot go to God with our prayers? 

We cannot initiate the exchange, he says. 

But God, through grace, can speak to us.

Mostly, however, God only does that when we are quietly meditating on something such as a single verse of Scripture, which is what Bonhoeffer had his students do. 

In other words, what if Bonhoeffer had his students prepare themselves to hear God speak by becoming still, and by quietening their conscious minds, and by waiting? 

Waiting in that overlap zone, perhaps, as close to the unconscious as possible? 

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

190906 – Pure Energy

What if you were able to go deep, deep down into your unconscious mind, and you found that that is where mystical oneness lies?

And what if, when you got to the very end of your unconscious mind, you found that there is no end?

What if you found, instead, an infinite, pure energy, which some call God? And others, the white light of the universe? And others, the zero-point energy field?

And if you did find an energy like that, would it help you understand what Luke meant when he said that the kingdom of God is within you (17:21)?

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

190913 – Two Worlds

What if you were told that you live in two distinct worlds, a world inside you and a world outside you, but that you can only have a profound connection to one of them?

One, not both.

And that only you can decide which one it will be?

However, if you’ve always lived in your conscious mind and in the world outside you, you might not have a problem with that. You might not even be aware you have an inside world, and, in fact, the very idea of having to make a choice between them might make no sense to you.

And what if you were asked to consider religion as an example that might help clarify the characteristics of those two worlds.

The outside world of religion, you’re told, which you know primarily with your conscious mind, includes priests in symbolic vestments, ornate architecture, the sacraments, music, women’s groups, men’s groups, children’s groups, meeting rooms, and large parking lots.

While the inside world of religion, which you can only know with your unconscious mind, has no priests, and no architecture, and no sacraments, and no music, and no meeting rooms, and no parking lots.

This inside world consists solely of silence, and a sense of peace that is beyond understanding, and a sense of being in the presence of, or of being, an infinite, omniscient, all-knowing power.

But you’re reminded that you can only have a profound connection to one of those two worlds.

One, not both.

Moreover, you’re also told that this inside world can only be sensed.

It can never be known or understood. Ever. Only sensed.

Could that be why the outside world of religion, and the outside world in general, is so seductive?

You’re able to believe that you can know it and understand it.  And on one level, at least, that must be very comforting.

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

190920 – Metaphors

Charlie, a main character in my novel The Parking Ticket, often talked about the kinds of things mentioned in the last aphorism. On one occasion, BJ, his wife, asked him how meaningful something was if you could only sense it, but never know it or understand it.

She said she liked the old idea of a God you could go to with a wish list and hope to get at least some of your wishes granted.

– – –

“All right, BJ. Just before we got to Cardston I was talking about Aristotle’s the Divine Within. But I could just as easily have talked about Yoda’s the Force.”

“You equate the two?”

“Now more so than ever. I’ve had yet another ah-ha about metaphors. The Divine Within and the Force are the same thing. Different metaphors, but the same thing. Yoda describes the Force as an infinite, omnipresent, all-pervasive energy that unites our individual energies with the energies of everything else in the universe. The trees and rocks, the planets and stars, the animals and people.

“Sound familiar?

“Everything is pure energy, he says. And that, of course, makes everything one.

“And that notion is by no means unique to Star Wars. Think of the Holy Spirit. The Brahman. The Tao. The Great Spirit. Each of them is defined as an infinite, omnipresent, all-pervading energy. And the respective believers see themselves as part of that energy.

“Also, most religions have something like a communion of saints. Right?”

“Charlie, are you saying that all religions have the same thing in mind when they talk about their vision of a higher power?”

“Yes, BJ, they do. In a sense, at least. Although most of them no longer realize it.

“Earlier, you said the Force was science fiction, my dear. And it is. But all the other definitions of a higher, unknown power are fictions, as well. Literary fictions. Theological fictions. Philosophical fictions. Even science talks mostly about theories, such as zero-point energy, not about facts. They all use metaphors. They have to.

“That’s my new insight. Not exactly new, I guess, but a tad more focused.

“We are finite beings trying to understand and describe the infinite. But we can’t even begin to do that. Can’t even begin, BJ. We can’t cram a vision of the infinite into a finite mind any more than we can cram an infinite number of marbles into a finite box.

“We can sense the presence of that all-pervasive energy, but to talk about it, we have to use metaphors, figures of speech, which, at best, only point toward that infinite, unknowable power.

“People used to say, like a father, like a shepherd, like a shield, like a fortress. But those particular metaphors are no longer very useful.

“We need new ones. And maybe the Force, and the Divine Within, and zero-point energy, are possible candidates. Who knows?”

[Charlie goes into a lot more detail about metaphors in the novel, especially in Part XI, Chapter 7.]

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

190927 – No Answers 

Some people have all the answers. I went to get a few a while back, but there were none left. So now when someone asks me about something, I have to say, I don’t know. I don’t have an answer for that. 

In my aphorisms I’ve mostly been saying, “What if . . .?” Or, “Maybe . . ..” Or, “Possibly . . ..” 

And now you know why.

 

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191004 – Alternate Worlds

What if artists do not simply sit back, and observe, and then make things that most of us usually ignore?

What if, instead, artists actually change the world we live in?

And change us? Change how we see ourselves and others? Change what we expect from ourselves and others?

And suggest options we’ve never thought of?

If, in fact, artists do that, how do they do it? What makes them different?

Could it be that they set aside significant periods of time each day to think about what is going on, and what could be and what should be going on?

Most of us, of course, don’t have time for that. We’re far too busy.

But what if some of us did perchance read Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, and listen to Billie Holiday’s “Strange Fruit,” and watch Oliver Stone’s JFK, and go to a gallery and study van Gogh’s Starry Night?

And understand the implications of each artist’s could be and should be?

What then? What would follow?

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

191011 – No Yesterday

What if you suddenly realized that there is no yesterday? That yesterday ended at midnight? And that now you’re left with nothing but memories of yesterday, which you’ve carefully adjusted to serve your own needs and purposes?

And what if you also realized that everyone else has done the same? Created memories that serve their particular needs and purposes?

But if there is no yesterday, what about history? 

Did it, too, end at midnight?

Did history become just a massive compilation of little fictions that various people have carefully crafted over time to serve themselves and their social and political affiliations?

Maybe. One historian says that most history is guesswork, and that the rest is nothing but unmitigated, and often unforgivable, prejudice.

But whatever the case, it’s clear that yesterday did, indeed, cease to exist at midnight.

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

190118 – Reborn

When I write in my journal first thing each morning, I use a different, newly-sharpened pencil because that yesterday-pencil was used by someone else who is no longer me.

Changing pencils reminds me that I’m not bound to continue on as that yesterday-person.

When I awake each morning, I am reborn. I am free to re-create whatever values, and aspirations, and interests, and commitments, that yesterday-person held.

And it is incumbent upon me to do exactly that, to re-create them. To turn on. To tune in. And to alter or drop anything that is no longer a fit.

But it is also incumbent upon me, very incumbent, indeed, not to take the easy way out and simply say, “Yah, that one’s probably still a fit, sort of, I guess.”

Otherwise I start to become as dead as that yesterday-person.

Also, by choosing not to be reborn, and by choosing to continue on as that yesterday-person, and to live in the past, I abdicate my responsibility to my today, a day that I will only have for twenty-four hours, for fourteen hundred and forty minutes.

And any of those minutes that I lose today is lost forever.

And if I lose too many of them, I end up stuck in time.

I remain that yesterday-person who is no longer me.

And then I, too, become lost.

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

191025 – The Visits 

I try to live in the zone where my conscious mind and my unconscious mind overlap, and as close to the unconscious side of that zone as possible.

When I’m in my conscious mind, I’m just visiting. And I’m always really glad when the visit’s over, so I can go home again. 

You may remember that I talked about all this in my first three aphorisms. And as each month goes by, I become even more convinced that what I said there might be true.

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

191101 – Zero-Point Energy

On their drive out to Dinosaur Provincial Park a while back, Charlie was talking with his partner, BJ, about his plan to live to a hundred twenty-five. Still photographing and writing, he said, not just staring, and drooling, and sipping suppers through paper straws.

And as an aside, he mentioned that we need new metaphors if we want to talk about a higher power, especially a power that can energize us, and heal us, and help us stay productive when we’re old. He said the traditional metaphors – like a father, like a shepherd, like a shield, like a fortress – don’t work anymore.

And he offered zero-point energy as one possible alternative.

BJ immediately asked him to explain how on earth an idea from quantum field theory could ever be used as a metaphor to characterize her notion of God.

“I don’t really understand it myself, BJ, but I’ll give it a try, although I’ve never thought in terms of specifics before.”

And he knew that is exactly what Miss-Two-PhDs would want. Very specific specifics.

“All right,” he said. “In the past adepts have worked with all by kinds of energies in such fields as the martial arts, the healing arts, yoga, meditation. And they’ve used tons of different words to describe those energies. The Holy Spirit. White light. The life force. Chakras. Auras. Qi. Spirit guides. Prana. The Great Spirit. Meridians.

“And each adept assumed that the energy he used in his particular field was unique and superior to the energies of all the other adepts. But they were wrong, BJ, because all those ostensibly unique energies came from the same source. I repeat, the – same – source.

“We just failed to understand that until quantum field theory came along. And now that I know about zero-point energy, I know how to keep myself healthy, and energized, and productive.

“But to do that, first of all I have to really, really believe, deep down, that zero-point exists. Or a power like it. Right?

“Then I’ll need to really, really believe I can tap into it. Maybe I could learn to breathe it in like the yogis who breathe in white light simultaneously through the tops of their heads and the base of their spines. They’ve done that for centuries.”

He paused. BJ looked over. He was frowning. Then he suddenly hit the steering wheel and turned toward her, his eyes wide, his mouth agape.

“Jeez, BJ. Jeez, jeez, jeez! What if the healing white light of the universe,1 which, those yogis have talked about forever, is actually zero-point energy?”2

Again, the pause. He was tapping the steering wheel with his left hand.

“Bang on, BJ. What if? What if? Healing white light. Auras. Chakras. It all hangs together. Right? It has to.

“Goldarn, that’s it. I think I’m onto something really big here.”

He turned and looked at her. And winked.

“It’s showtime, baby, pure and simple. If I truly believe I can tap into zero-point, finito. The connection’s made. And at that point I begin to know, know, BJ, not just believe, know that I’ll soon be walking on water, and dodging bullets, and healing myself. Maybe even in this lifetime. Wouldn’t that be something?

“Yoda tells Luke he can raise up his X-Wing, if he believes he can. Morpheus tells Neo he can dodge bullets, if he believes he can. And Jesus tells Peter he can walk on water, if he believes he can. And they would all tell me I can live to a hundred twenty-five, if I believe I can.

“And, in the end, I won’t just believe I can, I’ll know I can.

“I’ll know I can draw on the infinite energy in the zero-point field because the field and I are one. Right? I will succeed. I have to succeed. Entanglement, remember? One omnipresent, all-connected, all-knowing energy field?

“Hey, those descriptors – all-connected, all-knowing, all-powerful – are descriptors of your God, too. Right?

“You must be excited, BJ. You’re also a part of all this.”

“I am, Charlie. I’m so excited I’m almost wetting myself.”

“Be serious, BJ. This is not just quantum talking, or Yoda, or Morpheus. It’s a worldwide understanding that goes all the way back to the very first utterances of the very first mystics and healers. Every great spiritual teacher has clearly said that everything is one.”

BJ faked a yawn, looked at her watch, and looked out the window.

“Go ahead. Mock me. But I know, know, BJ, know that what they’ve said is true.

“Actually, I’m not quite at the point of knowing yet, I must admit, but I believe I’m getting closer. And the harder I work, the closer I’ll get.

“In the meantime, I still intend to use Aristotle’s the Divine Within as my metaphor. White light, spirit guides, qi, prana. They’re all metaphors. Even zero-point’s a metaphor. So, I’m absolutely fine with the Divine Within.

He turned and smiled.

But BJ was still looking out the window.

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

191108 – The World of Contemplation

One morning out on the patio, when Charlie and BJ were having their post-breakfast coffee, she asked him to explain the big picture, concisely, of what his insane hiking project had to do either with wisdom or with his Divine Within. She suggested that maybe his hiking was just more busyness.

And she reminded him that hiding behind busyness, which he’d done for most of his life, was the one thing he was trying to avoid.

“I can easily explain that big picture, my dear,” he replied, “because I’ve been writing about it in my journal for the last day or two.

“Ready? Here goes. Feel free to take notes.” He looked over at her and smiled.

“First, Aristotle says that the quality of your life is determined by its activities.

“Second, Nietzsche and Tolstoy both say that the highest quality of life comes from choosing one activity from among your very, very best options, only one, and then setting aside everything else.

“And third, people like Tolkien, and Lucas, and Kerouac say that whatever activity you choose, you have to be madly passionate about it. And if you are passionate enough, you can likely achieve almost anything you want.

“But it’s all or nothing. It has to be. It can’t be otherwise.

“However, there’s a catch. Fear makes that kind of passion impossible. So all my big plans, because of my fears, have always crashed down like a house-of-cards all the way back to Aristotle. No passion. No one activity. No high-quality life.

“Fear is an exceedingly strong negative energy. It is, in fact, without a doubt, my single strongest motivator, bar none. Even if I try to bury my fears in busyness like I did for decades, they still control me, absolutely.

“Hence the hiking. I’m going to start by confronting some of my very worst fears. I’m going to hike amongst ticks, and bears, and cougars. Alone. And I’m going to scramble up some really scary mountainsides. Alone, my dear. All alone.

“I have to confront that fear energy and overcome it, or at least some of it, because at the moment it’s totally killing me. Totally, BJ.

“And the more of that fear energy I can overcome, the freer I’ll be later on to enter into Aristotle’s world of contemplation. And the freer I’ll be to become one with the Divine Within. And, especially, the better prepared I’ll be for my next incarnation.

“Fear is the cork in the wine bottle of life. And I have to get that cork out of the bottle if I’m ever going to be able to get inside it and drink life right down to its very lees.”

He frowned, then looked over at her.

“Sheit. BJ, forget what I just said about the cork. That’s a really dumb image.”

She smiled but didn’t say anything for a while. That was a lot to take in all at once.

And it certainly didn’t make her feel any better about his climbing those mountains all by himself.

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

191115 – Charlie’s Goals

After Charlie explained the rationale behind his hiking project and the importance of choosing only one goal from among the myriad possibilities that life offers you, BJ asked him about the one goal he’d chosen for himself.

He immediately looked over and winked.

“I have four, actually, even though Nietzsche, and Tolstoy, and tons of others, say I should have only one. Bet that doesn’t surprise you. Right?”

She smiled.

“First, I’m going to write world-class literature, or die trying.

“Second, I’m going to make world-class photos, or die trying.

“Third, I’m going to live to a hundred twenty-five, or die trying.

“And finally, I’m going to be modest and humble at all times, after I die.”

She turned to him, put her hand on his thigh, and chuckled. “You know, the thing I like best about you, Charlie, is your diffidence and your tendency to understate. But I also like your enthusiasm, sweetie. So don’t change a thing.” She rubbed his thigh.

“You know, BJ, we should talk sometime about Nietzsche’s distinction between master morality and slave morality. Masters, he says, create their own values, while slaves do what they’re told. Slaves simply accept the values of their society. And they like it that way. They don’t have to think.

“And by the way, my dear, modesty and humility are two of those slave values that Nietzsche mentions. Masters would never subscribe to them, of course. Just the slaves.

“Well until you die, big guy, don’t ever change. You may sound a bit crazy at times, even a bit Übermenschy, but as I said, I love your energy. And besides, it’s quite comforting to know that I live with a master who’ll always take care of his little slave’s every need, or die trying. So I’ll never have to think, right?”

And again she chuckled and patted his thigh.

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

191122 – You Become What You Do

People who are famous in their field have often studied in that field since they were young.

One advantage to doing that is they didn’t waste a lot of time on things that were unrelated to what they wanted to become.

A person who knew she wanted to become an actor, for example, might have spent her time studying acting and being around like-minded people. She wouldn’t have gained as much by spending those years studying electrical engineering and being around un-like-minded people who might have had no particular interest in her art.

Apparently, we become the average of the five or six people we’re around most of the time.

And apparently, what we do with our time determines who we become.

If that’s true, then it might make sense to spend our time only doing things that are related to what we want to become and only spending time with like-minded people.

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

191129 – A Hundred Years Hence

What could I do today that people might still be talking about in a hundred years?

In the movie Lucy, Professor Norman says that the purpose of life is to gain knowledge and pass it on.

So what could I do today that might change the world, or at least a part of it, and make it a safer and more interesting place?

What if, every morning as I have my first cup of coffee, I wonder about those people a hundred years hence? Wonder what they might be thinking about me?

If I do that, would it help me spend less time on the superficial and the unimportant? Less time thinking only about myself? Less time trying to make it through the day with as little effort as possible?

It might.

So what could I do today, should I do today, that I might be able to pass something on to those hundred-years-from-now people?

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

191206 – The Drum With a Face

When you march to a different drummer, you could easily end up being the only one in your parade. 

But that unfettered oneness, would, perhaps, free you up to dance, or to fly, or to walk on water, or to do whatever else you wished.

Surely that would beat simply trudging along amidst the faceless masses, behind their faceless drummer, into a faceless future. 

Wouldn’t it? 

For some, at least?

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

191213 – What Truly Matters

Marcus Aurelius is dead. Georgia O’Keeffe is dead. Friedrich Nietzsche is dead. Mary Ann Evans is dead. Lao-tzu is dead. Lauren Bacall is dead.

And now Leonard Cohen is dead.

I’m losing more and more of my heroes and friends. An avalanche, it seems. 

And everything feels so transitory.

That, of course, makes me wonder, once again, What’s the point? 

Does life simply suck, and then you die, as some claim?

And I come back to the same answer, once again, Maybe not. 

Maybe the point I’m wondering about has very little to do with the transitoriness of everything. 

In fact, maybe even thinking about that everything is nothing but a red herring. 

Maybe that everything is really just 1 individual + 1 individual + 1 individual > billions of times, and I am simply one of those individuals – but an individual, note, who is separate from any everything.

The point then, for each individual, is that he, alone, is responsible to make certain that his life doesn’t suck, ever.

And it might help him to understand that everything outside of him is outside of his control. And that he has permission to feel indifferent about those things, and to let them go. 

And for everything inside of him, it might help a bit to think about four precepts.

One – Aristotle says that the quality of your life is determined by its activities.

Two – Nietzsche and Tolstoy both say that the highest quality of life comes from choosing one activity from among your very, very best options, only one, and then setting aside everything else. 

Three – People like Tolkien, and Lucas, and Kerouac, say that whatever activity you choose, you must become madly passionate about it. And if you are passionate enough, you will likely be able to achieve almost anything you want. 

And four – It’s all or nothing. It has to be. It can’t be otherwise. 

If an individual truly understands and lives by those four precepts, some would suggest that he might actually be able to create something important during his lifetime, some new knowledge perhaps or some new understandings that people a hundred years hence might still be talking about.

So, does it really matter, in a generic sense, whether Aurelius, and O’Keeffe, and Nietzsche, and Evans, and Lao-tzu, and Bacall, and now Cohen, are all dead?

Maybe not. Maybe all that truly matters is whether those seven individuals, at the end of their lives, were able to say, My life didn’t suck. I was true to my Self. And I love how I spent my time. And I love what I created.

I have absolutely no regrets.

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

191220 – Thunk Thoughts

Thinking thoughts that can’t be thunk

Writing words that can’t be writ

Knowing that which can’t be known

Leaves me notebooks full of 

 

-/-   -/-   -/-

I wonder if Lao-tzu would enjoy my little poem? Or is it more likely that he would throw a piece of firewood my head.

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

191227 – The Afterbody

Instead of, “At the end of my life,” maybe I should say, “At the end of my body.”

Maybe there is no afterlife in the way in which it’s often understood.

Maybe there’s only afterbody. 

The Life Force Energy that created my body and that empowers it, call it what you will, is One. 

It’s beyond time and place.

It’s even beyond infinity, infinity being a man-made concept.

So I’m guessing my life doesn’t end, just my body.

Afterbody, then, might be similar to, “I am currently driving a Honda, after having driven a Chevrolet, then a Ford, then a Dodge, then a Volkswagen, then a Nissan.

“And I’ve driven all of them into the ground, drive them until they died on me.

“The same will be true of my Honda. I’ll drive it into the ground, and once it, too, dies on me, I’ll simply shop around, yet again, and choose what I’d like to drive in my next inCARnation.”

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

200103 – Holiday Checklists 

One of the problems, when you travel on a tour, is that often everything moves too quickly. You have a certain number of things to do each day and a certain number of kilometers to go each day, and those priorities are inviolable.

It’s all about the checklist. Did that, check. Did that, check.

In the end, the travelers have checklists that they can talk about with other people, and those people often have checklists that they can share, as well. 

And for many, these checklists appear to be all that matters. 

Very few, it seems, wonder how their visit to a particular city, or a particular valley, or a particular seaport, has changed them. They don’t seem to wonder how visiting those sites has led to them to giving up certain things they used to value. Or how it has led them to take on new commitments that they’d never considered before.

And perhaps that’s because they didn’t really experience that city, or that valley, or that seaport. They were moving too quickly. And all they wanted to do, anyway, was complete their checklists, so they’d have things to talk about later on. 

Been there. Done that. 

But what if they had not been on a tour, and they had been able to spend an entire day, or even two, on one block of one street in Santa Fe, New Mexico, for example. 

Maybe the block between Sandoval St. and Lincoln Ave on W San Francisco St. Non-stop cafés, and bistros, and bars, and art galleries. 

They might even have had a glass of hibiscus kombucha with Jane Orr-Lander at the gallery of the Santa Fe Society of Artists and learned something about what made their local art unique.

And then maybe they’d also have had time to spend a day, or two, or even three, in the Santa Fe Railyard Park area.

They would have had to go to Santa Fe in the off-season, of course. Otherwise, they would merely have watched busloads of tourists scurrying about with their checklists, and their smart phones, and their selfie sticks.

To really experience Santa Fe, they would have to have seen and understood things about the lives of the local Santa Feans. How their hopes, and their fears, and their expectations, compared with theirs. 

And they might have learned a few things from those people that they could use to enrich their own lives.

But none of this could ever happen on a checklist-tour. 

On those tours, all too often, there’s barely time to look, let alone see.

 

Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω   Ω≈Ω≈Ω

 

200110 – Becoming the Answer

Are there any answers to life’s truly profound questions, such as:

Why was I born?

And now that I’m here, what am I supposed to do?

What are my responsibilities toward others?

Toward Planet Earth?

Toward myself?

What is the overall meaning of life, if there is one?

How do I achieve salvation, whatever that means?

And what happens after I die?

After years of pondering, I just kept coming up with bigger and bigger questions?

And I began to wonder if there was any possibility of ever finding answers?

But after many more years of pondering, I realized that I had been gradually changing? Gradually spending more and more time with my Unconscious in that overlap zone, which I’ve mentioned earlier?

And gradually coming to know, without knowing what I knew.

knowing that I couldn’t put into words.

But I was beginning to feel a profound sense of peace.

And after even more years of pondering and quietly waiting in that overlap zone, I realized that I was actually becoming those answers?

And, without knowing how I knew it, I was pretty sure that my Self, deep down in my Unconscious, would eventually merge with the Source, with that Unknowable One?

And that realization, for me, has become the answer to all my questions.

“And then he woke up,” you might say.

Maybe.

But wouldn’t that be something? Becoming increasingly centered?

Eventually merging with the One?

And experiencing full and final atonement?

Even going beyond that full and final at-one-ment?

≈≈≈

(© 2020 Glenn Christianson. All rights reserved.)

Return to the Post Index

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Post Index

 

Aphorisms – A Hint 

If you’re using a computer, rather than scrolling all the way down the “Post Index” to get to them, simply click on “Aphorisms” under “Categories” on the right.

 

A. THE COMPANION BOOK for THE PARKING TICKET

In case you missed it, I’m going to repeat most of what I said on my “Welcome” page.

Some of you might have been wondering what’s going on. I have a cover, and I have a finished novel, and I’ve decided how I want to publish it. So what’s the holdup?

Well, I had the idea a few months back of creating a companion book on this website to augment The Parking Ticket, which I intend to publish as an e-book on Kindle Select.

Charlie Kristofferson, for example, one of my main characters, decides to hike all seventeen trails listed in the Hiking Map and Guide for the Waterton Lakes National Park, which is in the province of Alberta, Canada.

The Akamina Ridge ends up being one of his favorite hikes, even though it does involve some scrambling. It is 18.3 kilometers long and has an elevation gain of 975 meters, almost a kilometer. Straight up in places. But he soon learns that going up is far less painful than coming down.

However, the view from the top of the ridge is absolutely spectacular.

So I decided to include some photos of that view to help those who’ve never hiked in the mountains to visualize what Charlie saw.

And I did the same kind of thing with the scenes and events in thirty other chapters, as well.

But instead of adding all the photos of the scenes and events in those chapters to my novel, I’ve posted them here in a companion book. That way, I can share more photos than I’d be able to if I added them to the novel itself, and I can change them if I wish.

I’ve also included additional information about those scenes and events, which might be of interest to the reader, but which would likely disrupt the flow of the chapters if I’d included it there.

Each of the chapters in The Parking Ticket with photos and additional information in my companion book has a (P) beside the date in its title. For example:

PART I    CHAPTER 1 –  2018 (P)

The (P) indicates the option of going to the companion book for that particular chapter whenever it suits.

This approach, I hope, will enrich the reader’s experience.

And now that the companion book’s published, I’ll be able to upload The Parking Ticket as soon as I read it through one more time.

Meanwhile, I can get more serious about my next novel, which I’ve already started.

And one final thought: If you enjoy reading The Parking Ticket even a fraction as much as I enjoyed writing it, then I suspect you’re about to embark on a worthwhile journey.

UPDATE #1

I have recently added the following information to the theme page:

The Parking Ticket is now published as an e-book on Amazon’s Kindle Select, the paperback version will be there right beside it very soon, and I have finally completed the last chapter in The Companion Book for The Parking Ticket.

UPDATE #2

In my Blog section, immediately following “Part XIII – Chapter 17 – 2018” on my “Post Index,” I’ve grouped a few of the photos I used in the thirty-two chapters of The Companion Book for The Parking Ticket into one post.

I’m assuming some of you might enjoy looking through them without having to read the commentaries.

If, of course, you are curious about one of the photos and would like to know more about it, you could go to its particular chapter in The Companion Book.

UPDATE #3

Again, in my Blog section, following “C. THE PHOTOS” on the “Post Index,” I have begun posting aphorisms. An aphorism is a single thought or observation that is stated in as few words as possible. A well-known example is Nietzsche’s, “And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.”

Each Friday, when I upload a new aphorism, I move the previous Friday’s to the end of the aphorisms in “My Previously-Posted Aphorisms.” This will keep them in chronological order, and at times they might even seem to grow out of the ones above.

≈≈≈

PLEASE NOTE

To go to a specific post below, click on the title.

≈≈≈

 

PART I

Part I  –  Chapter 1  –  2018

Part I  –  Chapter 2  –  1996

Part I  –  Chapter 3  –  2006

Part I  –  Chapter 4  –  2007

Part I  –  Chapter 5  –  2008

Part I  –  Chapter 7  –  2008

PART II

Part II  –  Chapter 5  –  2008

Part II  –  Chapter 11  –  1997

PART III

Part III  –  Chapter 11  –  1970s

PART IV

Part IV  –  Chapter 5  –  2009

Part IV  –  Chapter 8  –  2009

PART V

Part V  –  Chapter 1  –  2009

PART VI

Part VI  –  Chapter 1  –  2010

Part VI  –  Chapter 2  –  2010

Part VI  –  Chapter 7  –  2010

Part VI  –  Chapter 11  –  2010

Part VI  –  Chapter 12  –  2010

Part VI  –  Chapter 13  –  2010

PART VII

Part VII  –  Chapter 1  –  2010

Part VII  –  Chapter 6  –  2010

PART VIII

Part VIII  –  Chapter 3  –  2010

Part VIII  –  Chapter 5  –  2010

Part VIII  –  Chapter 9  –  2010

Part VIII  –  Chapter 10  –  2010

PART IX

Part IX  –  Chapter 1  –  2011

Part IX  –  Chapter 4  –  2011

Part IX  –  Chapter 8  –  2011

Part IX  –  Chapter 16  –  2011

PART X

Part X  –  Chapter 5  –  2010

Part X  –  Chapter 9  –  2010

PART XIII

Part XIII  –  Chapter 13  –  2008

Part XIII  –  Chapter 17  –  2018

≈≈≈

COMPANION BOOK PHOTOS

Some Photos from The Companion Book for The Parking Ticket

≈≈≈

B. THE PROCESS

(See below for C. THE PHOTOS.)

1b.) Getting Started

2b.) I Think My Novel Will Have to Be an E-book

3b.) How I Suspect My Writing Takes Care of Itself

4b.) What Might Happen If I Let Someone Edit My Novel?

5b.) How I Ready Myself

6b.) Overwhelmed?

7b.) Anybody Want a Free Novel?

8b.) I’ve Changed My Mind for Now about the Free Novel

9b.) Congress Sings the Swan Song of the United States of America

10b.) I’m Concerned about Infringing on Other People’s Copyrights

11b.) 13 – 26 – 3 – 9 – 1 + 3 = 4 – All of the above

12b.) I Want My Old Life Back

13b.) Being Rained Out Is OK

14b.) Charlie and Those Big Bighorn Rams

15b.) My Life and My World – Revised and Upgraded

16b.) Rindercella – Charlie’s Version

 

≈≈≈

C. THE PHOTOS

(See below for D. MY APHORISMS.)

(I almost always shoot fully manual. I use Live View – magnified at 10x, a loupe, manual focus, a circular polarizer, ISO 64, manual-focus lenses, and a tripod.)

1c.) Fog Shots

2c.) The Cowboy Trail

3c.) The Akamina Ridge

4c.) My Avatar and His Family

5c.) Firing Up My Birdbath

6c.) The Breakfast Club

7c.) Tick Season – Telephoto Time

8c.) A Hairassing Tail About Two Close Friends

 

≈≈≈

D. MY APHORISMS

This Friday’s Aphorism: 200117 – Religion-Poems

My Previously-Posted Aphorisms