December 1, 2014 | Posted in:Uncategorized

Chapter Twenty-Three

 7A

THOUGHT OF THE DAY

The relationship between the surface and the interior may well mirror the connection between the metropolis and the hinterlands, but, whatever the case may be, no knowledge worth more than a snort and a fart makes a case without looking beneath the exterior and pondering the nature of the networks that connect it inward.

Dreams of snow, of managing art in snowy climes, of avoiding plots to have us snuffed, course through Jimbo’s sleeping brain.  Manifold tasks ahead make the day full, or even overflowing.  And margins can sometimes be so idiotic, as here.

Here’s a new “Solidarity Forever” verse.

The empire’s every statement always starts off with a lie;

And workers who believe this will all too often die.

To resist this, they need only see precisely why

A union makes us strong.

Meanwhile, here’s some editing work.  Whereas Jimbo might manifest an utterly different approach, here he’ll proffer those ideas as comments.

“Hey Trisha!

Attached you will find some revisions for you to consider.  I am addressing matters of technique, such as the blending of second and third person, that most style guides—except in letters such as this—prohibit.  Obviously, you can shrug off such technicalities; my job is to show them to you.

Keep up the good work, and

 

Ciao for now,
Jimbo

GoofyIceHERE ARE EDITS THAT ARE TECHNICALLY CORRECT  No matter where or at what point in life one finds oneself, at whatever stage of career or personal engagement—constantly living in built environments, in the hustle-bustle, in the zooming pace of metro life anywhere—returning to nature every now and then is salubrious. Nature’s deep wells hide treasures that effect peace or even offer a portal into some of life’s most powerful experiences. One cannot access these benefits or these pathways without having some kind of link with these portals of nature.

Moreover, the ultra-technical lives that we lead weaken our engagement with nature. A day of labor is mostly spent in offices, in front of computers, or in other fieldwork where the city-maze’s organized structures dominate. The rest of our weekdays are spent at home, often with family, and our weekends also unfold at home, or in social gatherings, or in shopping or other social activities or in time when we are by ourselves. Hardly ever do we make time for activities that are nature bound.

Nevertheless, sometimes, the very essence of life is silence, and finding this requisite stillness in chaotic and artificial city locales is difficult at best. If one wishes to have access to this silence, then being close to nature in its myriad forms can provide one with havens of quiet and beauty. Any place close to the sea, rivers, lakes, mountains, hills, forests, plateaus, meadows, valleys, fields—away from walls of concrete and cities’ constructions of wealth and excess—perfectly facilitates access to this quietude. Such environments are allegorically portals of nature—gateways into silence and perfection.

Proximity to these portals—even if only occasional—ushers in some of the latent treasures of life. Thus, arguably, such interludes are definitely all-important. If we constantly wrestle with our lives’ problems, gaining perspectives essential to solutions may only be possible when we are farther away from our issues. Natural portals can provide us with fresh points of view, helping us to see our difficulties from a fresh angle, with a new pair of glasses.

Elements of nature always surround us—oceans, skies, the earth, the wind, greenery, sand, beautiful flora and fauna; even musical embodiments of nature bring us closer to our animal selves in a biological world. Connecting our routine lives to nature in some fashion offers balance and stability all around. Irrespective of where one is, what one is doing, maintaining such natural connections, in whatever tiny way possible, helps one to understand and gain better insights about all life’s travails.

 

And the Victor Jara treadmill has actually begun.  The stove continues in naughty, fucked-up cloggishness.  Hou and Boo move along.

 

 

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