Come, said my soul,
Such verses for my Body let us write, (for we are one,)
That should I after return,
Or, long, long hence, in other spheres,
There to some group of mates the chants resuming,
(Tallying Earth’s soil, trees, winds, tumultuous waves,)
Ever with pleas’d smile I may keep on,
Ever and ever yet the verses owning–as, first, I here and now
Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my name

- Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

American University students, I await your jeers.

On nights like this, I am grateful for a forum where my melancholy meanderings will echo endlessly and, in fact, meaninglessly.

I am restless this evening.  This post was originally intentioned for such utterances, and, I quote from my past self, as “true limits and false bottoms” (the query upon which I would explore the deviousness of lying to oneself), “being with family” (extended family, that being in-laws, and the surprising buoyancy one finds in such relationships), “natural healing”, (the exploration of the great outdoors and the healing one might experience in the pursuit of such), and “choosing through stimuli” (the unending debate of choice vs. chance, the importance of decision in dealing, and Fate, as we often learn to label it).

I find these headings trite, now.  I find many things trite when I am feeling as sardonic as I am at the moment, and I have yet to decide whether that’s a strength or a weakness.  All I know right now is that progress is measured in very fine units when push comes to shove.   When I feel myself digging for something solid, it all feels like so much sand.

There is very little in which I believe.  Technology trips, faith fails, and humanity humiliates those who tend to trust it.  There are good people and bad, but much of that relies on circumstance.  Even the best machines break down with time.  And the believers perish, leaving their gods to die soon after.

So what are we left?  What permeable substance are we to trust in?  Happenstance?  Random encounters?  Is God found in the eyes of a new friend, untested and untrue?  Perhaps that explains my tendency to play amazing short games.  The first and second innings are always good for me.  I’m ever the promising ensign and intriguing acquaintance.  I’ve never been the model of a modern Major-General, and I’ve no information vegetable, animal, or mineral.

I do have a passing familiarity with crayons, though.

Happy holidays, fellow wanderers in the dark.  May you find lanterns upon your path.

Invade the interwebs!