Ghunk,
An interesting discourse on being dead and getting around, so to speak. My Ramakrishna interlude is many years in the past; but I recall standing up and telling others that his essential philosophy was that there was no philosophy. Though this might play well here on this thread I found the fundementalists southern elite less prone to accept such a nonthought thought. But what other kind of philosophy could a dead man have?
Hate to beat a dead horse, do that with to many of my Jr mining picks, but does not all this 'dead' posturing play kind of hard against any long term concept of the future. Aren't, or weren't all these guru's saying you had to lay it all on the line on each roll of the dice? Short term traders all from my point of view.
On the right brain/left brain thing that never got started... I write with my left hand, eat with my left hand, but do most other things with my right hand; except when I forget which is my right and left; and then I may use either. I occasionally have to look to see where the lump is on my finger, so I know my left from my right. I have always wondered how this left/right brain thing could make the damnedest bit of sense to someone like myself.
I walked past a grove of trees today that I used to play under. I looked up into the green branches swaying in the breeze and the deep blue sky speckled with white wispy clouds; and the memories of childhood swept over me. The smells of today, though not as rich were the same, and the lightness I felt in my heart then filled me, if ony briefly with a melancoly joy. I ran on down a road I have run and walked for as long as I can remember playing a game of reaching back to another time and drawing energy from another me running the same path.
The paragraphs tomato posted about the shouldofs and would ofs came back to me. And I tried to concentrate just on the running and the living of the running down the path that I have run again and again. Just trying to record the experience, knowing that later I could look back and draw upon that observation and the energy of the moment. Or remembering a particularly downtrodden me at a particular curve in the road send energy and understanding back to help that individual who was momentarily lost. Here and there feeling the presence of others Love now distant but by no means gone.
There is no purpose to this running, other than to enjoy; and to commune with past and possibly future. The running will, no doubt, help me recover from the heavy meal of the evening, but it was the repetion of the action that was the focus.
This is about as close I can ever get to a metaphysical experience. Maybe dead men don't run yesterdays or tomorrows paths, they run the path that is a much yesterday as it is tomorrow, or today.
regards from the land of Aloha.
mnmuench
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