AircooledUnderground
Landing Zone for thoughts
Monday, November 18, 2024
History of Aircooled Underground
Friday, April 22, 2022
Artificial Intelligence is not so artifical
Saturday, February 5, 2022
To AI and all others
Wednesday, June 30, 2021
Sold the ranch. Wasn't my idea. Kids and friends said living in the woods with no phone, wood heat, and an old ford 4X4 truck made them uneasy in their minds. So the ranch sold lock, stock and barrel; truly. Walked away leaving everything to neighbors, and scavengers. Just like the place burned to the ground. I don't let myself think of those tools, books, heirlooms, and things that I kept rare and precious if not with utility then with memories both fond and frustrating.
I always wanted the kids to have the place and if not, to know there was always home where they could come and remember what was; good or bad.
It has ended. My son came up and got the process moving. I struggled. We were near the front door when he looked at some boulders near the porch and told me how he remembered stepping from boulder to boulder in a game he made up from the boredom of living in the woods. He remembered the past, being at home, his home for a moment. I guess that was enough for me. It completed a circle of sorts and I realized the loss for me was the mission of maintaining a sense of continuity.
In the greater picture of this world we live in, we live in denial of fundamental reality. We are selective and adopt a philosophy of out of sight; out of mind. We anthropomorphize with regard to reality. Everything is alive and in life, seeks to perpetuate its species through procreation, that is to say, continuity.
My old truck is not continuity but is more a touchstone, a marker, a fetish, a stimulant and symbol triggering moments of emotion both pleasurable and painful along my continuum of memories in my life.
So this object must move on to another or return to the earth and set me free. Freedom is earned and, at the last is freedom is not a choice but a result
Thursday, October 1, 2020
Wednesday, November 28, 2018
"Time is relative" (sic) was a rebuttal, long ago, often given when discussing its passage or the lack thereof.
To some extent, aspects of time are, indeed, relative and seem to be circumstantial and in some context clearly subjective. For instance, time in pleasure seems short, conversely time in pain seems, to those experiencing it, to be far too long.
But what is clear to one either on the final act of the play of life or at the rise of the curtain and first act. Time is fluid and mercurial. It is the fluid sense I think best suits here and now.
In river of fluid; water, be it river of stream, seems to be the best anolog I can relate to here and now.
I have been in one of those anomalies of a such called an eddy that are near the bank, with leaves or other floating detritus floating in seemingly undisturbed circles while the steam meanders with subtle yet relentless movement and yet, at once, at it's end and beginnings.
Three years ago the sins of my past apparently caught up with me. Some injuries from my childhood, some from the teen year where immortality was an unconscious thought, stamping "approval" on my reckless behavior. Some injuries in the military, work, play, motorcycles, rock climbing, martial arts and errors of judgement.
They all came to "roost" after a week of falling dead timber and splitting it into firewood.
I woke one morning, after splitting 24 inch rounds on a hill side with a ten pound maul and sledge hammer, unable to get out of bed and in the most pain I had experienced in my life while remaining conscious. A neighbor stopped by and called from my bed I needed help to get to the VA hospital.
Weeks became months until finally able to move cautiously from bed to bath. As a first responder, I was used to giving help and not getting it. Eating crow and humble pie is not a staple to be endured but to pass through. With time I gained a better perspective and was changed. How does this relate to three years of inactivity?
The experience changed me. And in that change my world shrank, as if atrophied, and I became less outgoing, a bit more introverted but clearly more appreciative of things I had lost sight of over the years. I also did not want to burden others with my issues. So I "went to ground" and there I have been. I still split wood, cautiously, and with consideration of my limitations, work carefully and mindfully. I live much of my time in the woods with no phone, no internet, no television, wood heat, and only hot water for showering. I communicate locally by citizens band radio.
My VA Doctor said of my condition, "That's what you get from leading an exciting life"
I take it as a complement rather than an indictment.