There are two sides of every sense.
Sitting on the side of the mesa with the southern wind insistent. The cold of winter clings to the stone, slowing seeping the warmth from the posterior. They say it can give you hemorrhoids, or even frostbite, sitting on cold stone, even if the air is warm. The sight of the snow clouds reluctantly creeping back to their northern abode. The clouds that carry the promise/threat of snow are readily identifiable by the gun metal gray color they carry. The smell of flowing sap and virile pollen ever-present. Funny how the blood and seed of the plant world are so pleasing to the human olfactory. The smell of human blood and human seed make most people sick. The sound of birds singing with relief at the end of their homeward journey. Kerrie hates them in the morning; the birds joy of life is surpassed only by her annoyance at being awoken at sunrise on a Saturday.
Atheists live for the spring.
It is comforting to me to see revitalization, growth, and renewal where only a few short days previous the land was a beautiful white tomb. I love the winter, its stillness reminds me of the stillness of eternity, but all men who believe, truly believe themselves mortal live for the spring. Summer contains all of the hubris of the living world, organisms mighty in the height of their majesty, and it is good. Autumn has all of the beauty of Sophocles and more, the inevitable tragedy that can only end in death, and yet, it too is beautiful. Yet the spring is the symbol of the egos impossible dream: to be renewed beyond death. In the springtime I am able to truly feel the greater life beyond my animal self. An atheist can rest easy in the springtime. Even if he thinks he is just fooling himself, he can look around and see the world springing back to life, and part of him will sigh and say, All things must pass, but they must also, in their time, return.
I have a fixation with worms.
One day we will all be food for the worms, and our bodies shall be used to feed our children. And they will lift their heads to the sky and praise the majesty of god for in bounty while gorging on the ashes of their forbearers. The ultimate life insurance plan: even when your body is decomposed, your great works forgotten, your songs unsung, you can still provide for those you love. It may be one day that our children are not children at all, merely the indirect recipients of our selves. Indeed, you have no choice in the matter, that can be frustrating, or it can be relieving. It is a split hairs difference, between a damning fate and salvation, and that difference is all a matter of perspective.
Sitting on the side of the mesa with the southern wind insistent. The cold of winter clings to the stone, slowing seeping the warmth from the posterior. They say it can give you hemorrhoids, or even frostbite, sitting on cold stone, even if the air is warm. The sight of the snow clouds reluctantly creeping back to their northern abode. The clouds that carry the promise/threat of snow are readily identifiable by the gun metal gray color they carry. The smell of flowing sap and virile pollen ever-present. Funny how the blood and seed of the plant world are so pleasing to the human olfactory. The smell of human blood and human seed make most people sick. The sound of birds singing with relief at the end of their homeward journey. Kerrie hates them in the morning; the birds joy of life is surpassed only by her annoyance at being awoken at sunrise on a Saturday.
Atheists live for the spring.
It is comforting to me to see revitalization, growth, and renewal where only a few short days previous the land was a beautiful white tomb. I love the winter, its stillness reminds me of the stillness of eternity, but all men who believe, truly believe themselves mortal live for the spring. Summer contains all of the hubris of the living world, organisms mighty in the height of their majesty, and it is good. Autumn has all of the beauty of Sophocles and more, the inevitable tragedy that can only end in death, and yet, it too is beautiful. Yet the spring is the symbol of the egos impossible dream: to be renewed beyond death. In the springtime I am able to truly feel the greater life beyond my animal self. An atheist can rest easy in the springtime. Even if he thinks he is just fooling himself, he can look around and see the world springing back to life, and part of him will sigh and say, All things must pass, but they must also, in their time, return.
I have a fixation with worms.
One day we will all be food for the worms, and our bodies shall be used to feed our children. And they will lift their heads to the sky and praise the majesty of god for in bounty while gorging on the ashes of their forbearers. The ultimate life insurance plan: even when your body is decomposed, your great works forgotten, your songs unsung, you can still provide for those you love. It may be one day that our children are not children at all, merely the indirect recipients of our selves. Indeed, you have no choice in the matter, that can be frustrating, or it can be relieving. It is a split hairs difference, between a damning fate and salvation, and that difference is all a matter of perspective.
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
churtch:
Lemonjello.....Oranjello.....Im just sayin....
rosaleigh:
Melonjello!