Baby Hawk

 

She wasn't at all happy
about having her picture taken.
Photo by: Z. Corwin

I'm already back

 

How fun if I could hold my breath

and cruise between the stars

I’d see within my rearview

planet Earth and Mars,

 

Later I’d pass Neptune

with Pluto in my sights

There’d be no need for sunscreen

I think it’s always night,

 

With baseball cap and tennis shoes

a sight I’m sure I’d be

there wouldn’t be a dress code

no one there but me,

 

If I should get too hungry

as I go along each day

before I find I’ve gone too far

I’d grab a Milky Way.

 

 

 

 ZC

He likes it in there

 Just as some shopkeepers live
above their store,

Our Postman lives inside
our mailbox

The Freedom to not Wonder

 

Dolphins and crows and any other creature we believe to have intelligence, has the advantage over us, in that they do not contemplate their ultimate end.

 

***

 

That's an interesting observation, and it touches on something that may be both our burden and our gift.

The freedom of a dolphin or a crow may be that it lives almost entirely within the moment presented to it. It reacts to danger, seeks food, plays, rests, and mates, but as far as we know, it does not sit beside the ocean wondering whether one day there will be no more oceans for it to see. It does not lie awake contemplating the permanent end of its own story.

Humans, however, carry the ability to project ourselves into futures that do not yet exist. We can anticipate, imagine, fear, and regret. The same mind that writes symphonies, plans cities, wonders about distant galaxies, and cherishes memories is also capable of realizing that every experience it values will someday cease.

There is a peculiar tragedy in that awareness. A crow may be free from the fear of death because it lacks the capacity to ponder death in the abstract. Yet it may also be deprived of a certain appreciation that comes from knowing time is limited. We treasure photographs because moments disappear. We write letters because people leave. We say "I love you" because we know there may come a last opportunity.

Perhaps the title The Freedom to Not Wonder captures a tradeoff:

The crow is free from the question.

The human is free because of the question.

One escapes the burden of wondering. The other builds an entire civilization in response to it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ZC

 

 

Grounded

 

Yesterday, hundreds of people attempting to travel by air were left sitting in the plane on the runway, stopped by a glitch in control tower communications.  For hours, wedged into their cramped seats, no food or bathroom breaks with only stale air to breathe, and other than the cost, the only difference between first class and coach was a couple more inches of space.  Four, to be precise.

Based on the cost of a first-class seat being $1800.00 and the coach seat costing $248.00, that means the class structure difference in America works out to be $388.00 per inch. 

When we examine the requirements to achieve the elevated status that allows us to afford the first-class ticket, we must consider the cost of the college degree, the time expended and the cost of the gratification delayed.  This adds $972.50 to our $388.00 making our comfort level cost $627.00  That’s dividing by the 4 inches of additional leg room.

       Taking all things into consideration, wouldn’t you think the airlines might offer more than peanuts?

 

        ZC

The Mayor of Crazy Town

 

There was a time when I would feel bad for those who were a little off-center, not wrapped real tight, as they say.  They were different than us and so they were treated differently.  Sometimes it wasn’t much that set them apart, but for whatever reason, it was obvious.

       Many times, I thought it was me.  I wasn’t thinking like everyone around me.  Things that were important to them, I didn’t care about at all.  They were excited about and getting involved with sports, while I found it to be rather stupid.  Basketball players running up and down the gym floor, bouncing a ball and tossing it into a hoop.  Sorry, but why?  What’s the point?

       I could see some of the attraction of golf.  They got to be outside, walking around on nicely trimmed lawns, enjoying the day.  Hitting a ball with a stick and then chasing it… I don’t think so.  We part company when it comes to that.

       My tendencies leaned more towards art and photography.  Those I enjoyed greatly, as did I enjoy live stage plays.  I found those to be the most fun.

       So, with those things in my backpack, I didn’t think I was too much of an outcast.  And yet, when I compare my writing to today’s literature, once again I see myself as an outsider.  I am the one off-center. And the more I read the things I’ve written and the subject matter I’ve chosen to write about, like hall passes in the afterlife and conversations with a petri dish, the more I think that maybe I should run for Mayor.

ZC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Autopilot

 

The thoughts that swirl here in my head, oftentimes sound more reasonable, but then something happens during their travel time, from my head to this page.  Apparently, it isn’t a smooth and straight highway.

       I’m beginning to think that some of my thoughts and words are self-driving.  Moments after I think of them, a system kicks in and off they go, dodging potholes, making sharp assumptions and unscheduled turns.  I can’t prove any of this, of course, and I’ve not seen a manual or trouble shooting guide.  I can just tell by what shows up on the page.  “Hey, that’s not what I meant.”

       I’m wondering if as we humans develop and improve technology, maybe our internal network is picking up on some of these ideas and running with them.   Our brain is complex enough and controls everything else in our bodies, it makes sense that it too would learn and improve itself.  Why not? 

       It already warns us when we’re not walking straight and it keeps us from bumping into things as we move.  Our internal cruise control always sets itself, just like our thermostat keeps our temperature at a comfortable level.   Our sensors tell us when someone is too close, so why not take over other aspects of our navigation.   Somewhere between a thought being formed and words being written, a little co-pilot decides it knows a shortcut.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 ZC