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Wednesday, September 9, 2015


air bellows drive thru art museum

 Throughout this lifetime I have studied how to live in this world. I've learned a lot about the world through reading history, fiction, poetry, knowing a variety of people, experience, paying attention, though have never learned how to live in the world. Yet I do live in the world, have never lived somewhere else. I always come to the best place for me is on the edge, the periphery. I'm like the cow, or any herding four-legged, that stays separate from the herd. Every herd has one. It is a part of the herd, just prefers more space around itself. I see this pattern in the varieties of herd behavior I've partaken of. I get in with a group of people with a given objective, I'm the one that stays on the outer edge, part of the group, just not so socially interactive. Every time I meet new people they take pity on me because I don't have a social life and tell me who I need to meet, what I need to do to pull myself back into the herd. It never takes. They get impatient with me for not following through on their advice and give up. They're trying to help me live in this world in an interactive way. I already know I don't want to. Many times I've had to remind self that I did not come to Waterfall Road to be a social butterfly. I left plenty of oppotunity for social to go to the mountains, separated self from a herd, the city herd, and fell into a smaller herd, the country herd.

air bellows drive thru art museum

First thing I learned, my idealizing mind had elevated the country herd outside realism such that when I found the same social principles applied here as in the city, I was surprised momentarily, though not really. I'm one who likes particular people from different herds, though cannot be a member of any of the herds. By herds, I mean social groups. Not motivated to elevate self to the country club set, I don't want the circle of people I know to be determined by something like belonging to a club. Again, I prefer individuals to herds. I had this in childhood, which made it impossible to belong to any one set of kids. One of my friends was a Mexican, which was not ok with the popular kids. During recess, my play was with one or two others, never a group. Getting into jr hi and high school gym class, dividing into teams to play basketball or baseball, I was always one of the last ones chosen. Just throwing the ball at the hoop, I could make it every once in awhile, though in a game situation, could never make a basket. To throw the ball for a basket was to give the ball to the other team. I learned not to throw the ball away, but to pass it to somebody who was good at making baskets. Those guys liked having me on the team. I passed the ball to them so they could score more points. I was a team player, peripherally, the one on the team that cared nothing for winning or losing. Everybody else wants to win, ok let's win.

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I never took to running back and forth scoring points. Why does it matter? Why does everybody have to do it? What if somebody doesn't want to? Then you act like you want to for the C, the best grade I could ever get in gym class. I had to work and act hard to get the C. I hated having to climb a rope to the rafters in the gym, touch the beam and go back down. Hated it. Especially hated having to let go with one hand at the top to touch the beam. Hated parallel bars and the rings. Baseball was ok, because it was mostly standing around. I played right field because most of the fly balls went to left field. The only sport I was good at was running, track. Racing was a solitary thing to do. I could have been the fastest one in my school, but for the guy who ran faster than anybody in the city. He always took first, the fastest guy from the other school mostly took second and I got third, except the times I came in fourth. Though I preferred track to other sports, I was limited by short legs that could not keep up with the long-legged guys. I had some minor abilities, but never got right with the notion of competition, never took up tennis after learning the point was to make the other guy miss the ball. And love meant nothing. Big deal. Who cares?  

air bellows drive thru art museum

Football season is here. I care the same as I care when hunting season begins. Running a ball back and forth between goals, or, in the other kind of football, kicking the ball back and forth for points to win. Hot dang. I prefer a game the dogs and donkeys play, chase. One chases the other in a circle, then they switch and the one chased does the chasing. They take turns, they run around and around, eyes flashing a happy spirit, running as fast as they can go, and when it's over, it's over. They are measuring each other's abilities in relation to their own, sizing up the other dog, measuring self in relation to other, seeing what he or she can do in the game of chase. The four-leggeds like to play games too, though their games are not mental in the same way as ours. They don't organize and compete, unless they mean business, like when one tribe of chimpanzees raids a neighboring chimpanzee tribe to kill as many as they can. This behavior is awfully similar to Amazon Indian people, the head shrinkers. We humans imitate war in sports, train ourselves from childhood onward in military mind. I certainly came into this world with an anti-military mind. In the earliest years I mentally rejected training myself to kill and be killed for somebody else's corporate profit. This right here is key, why I can't get along successfully in this world. I have never wanted to benefit an economy that self-perpetuates by way of killing poor people. I'd rather learn in school how to help people having a hard time, not how to kill them. How the association came about, I don't know, but I connected competition with killing early on, and wanted to live my life in a way that contributes the least to the killing mentality. I refused to allow military mind to infuse my mind with a murderous dismissal of others. I can see this thread all the way back to first memories.

air bellows drive thru art museum


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