What does it all mean?
Can’t know. Next question.
What’s for lunch?
Soup.
There are many problems with wondering about the purpose [or lack thereof, ed. [don’t be a downer, nobody likes that answer except for me, xty]] of life. For one thing, it leads to multi-layered, ludicrous, conversations that are best enjoyed when you are 17 and experimenting with the limits of consciousness, and think it would be cool to go dressed as the Electric Kool-aid Acid Test for Hallowe’en.
But the main problems with being a philosopher as an adult occur when you stop being able to feed yourself and your family, and you no longer bother to wear clean clothing. That is, philosophy must stop when the philosopher can no longer function in day to day relationships and has to go and live in a cave somewhere.
I might be ruining my own argument. That cave, near Llangeler in Wales, looks mighty attractive, and really was occupied by a hermit, who seems to have had a holy well nearby. [note to self: that’s a nice feature to look for in a cave, when out shopping, btw., and I must add it to my list.]
There is a wonderful passage in one of the Moomintroll books in which Moominmamma, finally losing her peace of mind, paints an apple tree on the wall in the kitchen, and moves into it. At least I found it wonderful, and it was often one of my idle threats, that I would have to move into my apple tree if things didn’t get a little less demanding around my feet. Here she is, creating her imaginary worlds:
I have a very peculiar, personal, read on the whole thing, which involves all time and space existing in a sort of glowing, golden football that pulses and changes while remaining the same … a sort of homeostasis, as it were.
Our job is to keep it glowing, while still putting some soup on the table.
GAX indeed, and worth every penny nickel!
while still too cold to leave the cave, half way through the winter the bear will roll over.
Re hiraeth. That maybe ties in with a theory I have been having, watching endless delightful histories of early Wales, Cornwall and Yorkshire, that perhaps we really do have an innate sense of our birth-place, DNA wise. They can do neat studies these days to show you where your ancestors were from, and I have wondered if the people who are comfy in Newfoundland maybe have a lot of Welsh or Irish or Scottish in their DNA, or people who emigrated from the Ukraine might feel at home in the prairies. Just like birds or whales or salmon or butterflies or whatever can return to their nesting grounds. So one might need to find a geographical area that was suited to your evolutionary DNA. People who didn’t emigrate often turn out to live incredibly close to their ancestral DNA, so we might have a yearning that is hard to satisfy.
morning Xty. your theory isn’t just your own. it seems like DNA has memory. i will try to find something later if i have time.
sorry for not finishing my first post. i got pulled away. Heikinpaiva is a Finnish mid-winter festival. you can Google that word for more info.
hope everyone has a great Friday.
I was hoping you might fill us in. Fryday here, after an interesting session with an ‘Athletic Therapist’ yesterday, who might actually be able to help me in a sort of combo massage therapy, physio and more just an ironing out of the fascia and scar tissue that so disrupt my happy insides and my gait. I am very stiff.
December 1, 2013
Mice Inherit Specific Memories, Because Epigenetics
It seems you do know the meaning of life as does any aged individual. I have had more than my share of intercourse with the 85-90 y.o. set the past few years and according to all of them the meaning of life is to keep making soup. They persist under conditions that I would find extremely unacceptable and yet with a sense of pride and wonderment they proclaim “I’m still here!” up until the very day that they aren’t.
Now as for soup, I prefer the pot au feu approach. No matter that I don’t have the luxury of time to wax philosophical, I can express myself as artistically as I wish in my stovetop Dagwoodesq concoctions. I have never made the same soup twice and I eat a lot of soup. Even day to day as leftovers, it rarely resembles the previous day’s bowl. Herein I differ from the wiki definition. In my readings, pot au feu refers to a hearth with a constantly simmering pot to which new things are added as they become available. Yum! (me) Yuck! (wife)
As for hiraeth, maybe it explains why I am where I am, but my brother has been thriving in a diametrically opposed sunny, warm, big southern city for 43 years.
Whew! That took 1 1/2 hrs all the while interacting w/ a 2 y. o. and her insisting I wear her pink cowgirl hat the whole time. I wouldn’t have even turned the computer on if her brother weren’t at preschool.
We call it fridge soup, and we used to call it 500 year-old soup when I was a teenager, because we had been told that a continuous pot of soup had existed for that long – but when I when to search on Google for “500 year-old soup” I only got two results and now I need to go and sterilize my brain:
Happy Haikenpaiva. i haven’t found much on the internet to enlighten you on that, or on the subject of what they call genetic memory. your article Xty actually is more recent than what i remembered – i was digging into Jung’s idea of a collective unconscious at the time. going with the flow, i’ll wish you good health Xty, and also remark that a broader approach to pain management sounds like a winner. treading carefully here, i also will congratulate the Dude for still knocking boots and making soup with the cougars.
A zen master walks up to a hot dog vendor and says, “Make me one with everything.”
but i am.
Longing for a warm smir right now. The writer does a nice job of evoking the scenes and sensations that expose the poetry of that word. However, he totally misses on sma because he left off the apostrophe that was present in his example. thus missing the fact that it is just an abbreviation of small.
Note to Peter Hoeg: Smilla’s Sense of Smir sounds so much better.
Found this while looking for above. I admit to a guilty pleasure as I thoroughly enjoy this Scandinavian crime genre, probably owing to my ancestral dna. Autobiographical disclosure- circa 250 years ago our name was Swenson, but owing to a plethora of like named Swedes, it was changed to Nyman, which Ellis Islanded into Newman.
I have a friend, same heritage, whose last name is Karlix. I once asked him how he came to have such a nontraditional Swedish name and his reply was that at Ellis Island they told his great-grandfather that we already had way too many Petersons’ so he should change it. So change it he did- the then current Swedish monarch was King Karl the 9th.
Words ending with smir. There are 0 words ending with the letters smir. You can also find the words starting with smir.
9 Letter words that start with smir
Smirching
Smirkiest
8 Letter words that start with smir
Smirched
Smirches
Smirkers
Smirkier
Smirkily
Smirking
7 Letter words that start with smir
Smirked
Smirker
6 Letter words that start with smir
Smirch
Smirks
Smirky
5 Letter words that start with smir
Smirk
hope this helps. 🙂
Just finished watching this and feel it was time well spent. Highly recommended.
Not to besmirch you…………..but you left out the middle.
and
GAX – Stock Symbol for Gallahad Metals Inc.
They Hunt Gold and such
Their shares are half a penny
They have not found much
Cat Cam