Quantum Mechanics

 

As a child I was given blocks of various shapes and told to fit them into the spaces of the same shape.  I seemed to grasp this task with little effort.  Today however, on PBS, there were people attempting to explain quantum mechanics.  None of what they were saying fit into my brain.  None of my spaces came close to matching their descriptions of anything.  I understood many of the words, so I knew they were speaking English, and yet they seemed to wander into a microscopic realm of particles and waves and all at a level of gibberish I’d not encountered before.

Let's leave it at that.

Sure, that helps.

zc

 

 

 

 

 

 

Room with a View

 

I think animals must become frustrated at certain things like we do.  The older squirrels who miss when leaping for that next branch.  Or the Hippo standing extremely bored at the zoo, listening day after day to the chatter of the humans staring at them, perhaps remembering how life once was.

Even our household pets must get really annoyed at us when we’re slow to catch on that they need to go outside, or that is it now 20 minutes past their dinner time and we sit, oblivious to their hints.

At the far end of the spectrum must be the goldfish.  Going around and around again, not remembering they were just there a second ago.  A submerged view of the room beyond the glass.  How strange we must appear to them, standing upright, continually wandering about the same room, over and over again.

 

 

Old Ben Kenobi

 

Obi-Wan was an excellent character, as was Rancid Crabtree, although a bit more obscure.   I remember seeing an old spaghetti western, I think it was The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Anyway, the Ugly was in a gun store, taking various pieces of different pistols and fitting them together to make the perfectly balanced handgun. 

I see the various bits of my life like that, assembled from different movies, different musical groups and literary characters.  They all blend to make my life feel complete and balanced. 

It is in that contentment where I write.  It serves no earthly purpose to write agitated.  It would be like adding expired cream to your coffee.  The lumps of discontentment always float to the top.

 

 

 

 

 zc

 

 

 

 

Life's Journey

 

I’m not all that fond of this end of the trail.  I mean, I’ve seen enough of it to know what to expect.  Sure, it was fine at the beginning, the flowers were colorful and new, and everything smelled fresh, like after a summer rain. 

But I’ve been hiking for so long now, I doubt there are any surprises over the next hill or around the next bend.   Even the forest creatures look at me like – “Are you still here?”  I’m tired and my joints and the twigs I step on make the same snapping sounds. 

Not to change subjects, but I was just thinking, I’ll bet our language, our adjectives will fall woefully short when we attempt to describe the first alien we encounter.  I don’t know why, but I expect their bodies will be ghost-like wisps, disrupted by the slightest breeze, and yet remain in the same space.  They will communicate with their eyes, as even some humans are apt to do.

And, just maybe, that is what I will encounter at trail’s end.  An entirely different adventure, where once again everything is fresh and new, no snapping twigs or failing vision, just a new beginning.

 

 

 

 

Enspirado Escritor 

 

Logo

 

923

923 has been waiting for a very long time.  It remembers fondly the days long ago when it was stuffed almost every day.  Sometimes the door barely closed.  People don’t understand, just because something is made of metal or plastic or wood, they don’t think it feels or knows what’s going on.  The moment it is made it gets a soul.  It comes alive.  Not alive like people, but alive as a thing.  We are real.  Of course, we don’t breathe or sneeze, but that doesn’t mean we’re not in here. 

The minute I became 923, I became real.  But lately I no longer serve a purpose.  I don’t know if it is the cost of postage or if people have just gotten too busy, but something happened. I just feel so empty.  Even the voices that once filled the back room have dwindled down to a few.  There is no laughter, no complaining about heavy catalogs, or moronic supervisors, nothing.  It’s just all very quiet now.

 

 

 

Happy to be Me

        Just taking a moment.  Not hunting down food, not playing in air currents, just taking a moment.  Glad I’m not that tree.  Too set in his ways.  Never going anywhere, just stands there.  Defenseless against the Woodpecker.

zc