Scott's Wonderings

Verity wrote: Sitting on the other (under) side of the world from many (most) of you, I begin to wonder how similar our mornings are ...

I wonder that there's any wonder left in the world. It's wondrous indeed to hear someone wondering so.

This "morning" began sometime after 2 AM (Eastern US), long before Sol managed to climb above the horizon. The computer beckoned, as chores, layin' about and Jerry McGuire absorbed Sunday. Nothin' like downloading 384 emails in the mornin'. ;-)

I'm unfortunately landlocked in an apartment that doesn't allow enough exposure to the out-of-doors, but the Dogwood tree just in front of my window is blooming and very lightly fragrant. Birdsong seems all too brief; I suppose that even birds must get along to the day's business.

I wonder whether anyone else likes a mug o' coffee with as much sugar as I (on the order of 5+ lumps, usually a partial scoop from the sugar jar). I also wonder as to whether many appreciate "the burn" from fizzy pop in one's still sleeping mouth. I wonder why I sqinch so when guzzling OJ or cranberry juice (or fresh limeades). I wonder if there's anyone else that doesn't use an alarm clock. And if they still do the "roll over" for extra sleep.

I wonder at the statistical analysis that surmises that everyone, with each breath, likely inhales at least one molecule from Ceasar's last breath.

I wonder at how the works of humanity (even the 'net) pale in comparison to work that is humanity, and at the imposibly overstuffed egos of homo sapiens.

I wonder whether our species will ever truly live up to sapience ("having or showing great wisdom or sound judgement").

I wonder why some shadows never seem to disappear.

I wonder if fear and ignorance can ever be remedied.

I wonder how many have been struck by the concept embodied by the classic Zen conundrum of "What is the sound of a single hand clapping?" Or how it speaks to the very fabric of the universe. Or that it can be related to yin-yang as the ultimate in opposites.

I wonder at the amazing complexity of music today, produced thanks to technology. The ephemeral, almost visceral sounds of Enya, for instance, that come in part from massive layering of tracks. But then I wonder and marvel at the pure artistry of a single guitar or piano. I wonder whether anyone else has heard of Mamou ( a Cajun-Blues-Rock band down New Orleans way).

I wonder why many do not seem to feel the burning itch to know; the hungry yearning for knowledge; the challenge, the thrown gauntlet, that is the void.

I wonder if we will ever leave "the cradle."

[and suddenly from the Python Peanut Galery] I wonder if 'e's ever going to stop all this fannying-about? 'E's off 'is chum 'e is. Completely out of 'is tree. [and just as suddenly the unruly lot become quiet]

I wonder if you're lonely, or sad, or happy, or in love, or just indifferent...

All of the above, in good measure. It's a question of balance. Except perhaps for indifference -- indifference seems too close to apathy or willful ignorance, at least to me. For me, it's more like "not enough info to form an opinion."

I wonder if hate really exists, or whether what's called hate is really anger, displaced or otherwise.

I wonder whether any of you like to pull things apart and put them back together as I always have...

Of course. I wonder how many "adults" find Legos and such like to be soothing to the psyche awash in a roiling sea...

I wonder whether you feel the distance as greatly as I do...

I wonder at the gulf's that divide us regardless of the distances involved.

I wonder whether I'm the only person in the world who wonders these things...

You are not alone. (Take a listen to Michael Jackson's track of same name, it says it... ...all.)

You almost sound as if you need a hug! Just in case, here's a great big, lift you off your feet, bear hug all the way from Virginia on this sparkling day...

*HHHHHHUUUUUUUGGGGGGG!!!!* (Especially for Verity, the hug addict.)

Scott

PS. I wonder at the compassion and comradery that can be engendered across this sterile landscape that melds our very souls.

© copyright, 1997, Scott Bowling
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