Been away so long
So much has happened
Nothing new to tell
It's all been done before
Here I am again
Thinking about tomorrow
The past it slipped away
I've said this all before
If you pulled away
Well I couldn't blame you
I had nothing more to say
And you had nothing left to do
Here we are again
Ready for tomorrow
The past is now today
Guess I'll try once more
Sitting in my room
Staring out the window
I'm coming back to life
I'm reaching out to you
Here we go again
The future sits wide open
It's time to tell the tale
And hit the waiting road
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Sunday, April 18, 2010
in memory of lully
The Sea Forever at My Side
At my side in the shade of a tree,
at my side at the edge of a cliff,
at my side if the cord breaks
and I fall into the abyss.
At my side when I fall in love,
at my side when she scolds me,
at my side if we exchange kisses
and embrace each other happily.
At my side if I light a fire,
at my side if I am dying of cold,
at my side if, being in disgrace,
a friend forgets me.
At my side if I write a poem,
at my side if I cry or smile,
at my side, the sea is forever at my side,
sharing the bitter hours
and the hours of joy.
- Ernesto Diaz Rodriguez
Sunday, April 4, 2010
on resurrection
I was debating in my mind this morning how to commemorate Easter. The prospect of going to church -- even a Unitarian Universalist one -- seemed daunting, and the possibility of quality lazy family home time especially inviting. But as we lounge around, enjoying Easter goodies and the start of a gorgeous spring Sunday, my thoughts linger on the concept of resurrection.
Despite my Catholic upbringing (or perhaps because of it?), I don't believe in the idea of literal rebirth -- that is, the notion that anyone (even Jesus) could die and then come back from death, reanimated with the same basic form and sense of self. I'm also not a big believer in miracles, or at least in that which would violate the fundamental laws of physics and/or earthbound biology (these laws are in and of themselves miraculous enough, in my opinion). That's not to say I would rule out the supernatural -- I don't think we have enough data to disprove it -- but I do believe that once the present physical "you" is dead, then that really is the final curtain for the physical "you," and probably the spiritual "you" as well. And really, that's probably just as well -- what good would it do any of us to linger in our current state indefinitely, like restless vampires in some Anne Rice novel?
However, I am a big believer in the first law of thermodynamics, which states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, but only changed in form. Considering that all life forms are essentially collections of energy that sustain themselves via external energy inputs, when a person dies his or her energy must not cease to exist but rather must dissipate into the environment over time, where it is taken up anew and assimilated by still-living forms. Of course, some of our matter would end up as part of the abiotic world, but even these bits of our current selves would still exist and serve some purpose.
So, in this way, we do each hold a legitimate claim on eternity, and the hope of resurrection. Perhaps not in the "I, Greg, shall live forever as Greg" manner that some might prefer, and probably not following the "Pearly Gates" model either. But certainly there is power and comfort in the knowledge that the energy that is me may one day cause a flower to bloom, or help an eagle soar, or propel a snake through the grass, or help push up new mountain ranges. Or yes, I may again experience long-term self-awareness as an entirely different person or other entity. The present is the raw material of the future. Even when the Earth ceases to be, our planet consumed by a dying star or obliterated by a rogue asteroid, the energy that was Earth will forever belong to the universe, and forever be recycled into new, unique, and beautiful creations of a self-perpetuating cosmos.
Happy Easter. Spring has sprung. Again.
Despite my Catholic upbringing (or perhaps because of it?), I don't believe in the idea of literal rebirth -- that is, the notion that anyone (even Jesus) could die and then come back from death, reanimated with the same basic form and sense of self. I'm also not a big believer in miracles, or at least in that which would violate the fundamental laws of physics and/or earthbound biology (these laws are in and of themselves miraculous enough, in my opinion). That's not to say I would rule out the supernatural -- I don't think we have enough data to disprove it -- but I do believe that once the present physical "you" is dead, then that really is the final curtain for the physical "you," and probably the spiritual "you" as well. And really, that's probably just as well -- what good would it do any of us to linger in our current state indefinitely, like restless vampires in some Anne Rice novel?
However, I am a big believer in the first law of thermodynamics, which states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, but only changed in form. Considering that all life forms are essentially collections of energy that sustain themselves via external energy inputs, when a person dies his or her energy must not cease to exist but rather must dissipate into the environment over time, where it is taken up anew and assimilated by still-living forms. Of course, some of our matter would end up as part of the abiotic world, but even these bits of our current selves would still exist and serve some purpose.
So, in this way, we do each hold a legitimate claim on eternity, and the hope of resurrection. Perhaps not in the "I, Greg, shall live forever as Greg" manner that some might prefer, and probably not following the "Pearly Gates" model either. But certainly there is power and comfort in the knowledge that the energy that is me may one day cause a flower to bloom, or help an eagle soar, or propel a snake through the grass, or help push up new mountain ranges. Or yes, I may again experience long-term self-awareness as an entirely different person or other entity. The present is the raw material of the future. Even when the Earth ceases to be, our planet consumed by a dying star or obliterated by a rogue asteroid, the energy that was Earth will forever belong to the universe, and forever be recycled into new, unique, and beautiful creations of a self-perpetuating cosmos.
Happy Easter. Spring has sprung. Again.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
the year we make contact?
Sadly, pathetically, impossibly, a whole year just passed since my last blog entry. I was on a roll, dutifully posting weekly for the first couple of months of 2009, and the creative juices were really beginning to flow... and then CRASH -- my entries disappeared as fast as they came (and the words you hear don't mean a thing).
A lot can happen in a year. A quick update:
- I did get singled out for promotion, just like my fortune cookie promised (see my blog post from Feb. 14, 2009).
- I finished my MPA and can now forever bask in the glow of my scholastic grandeur.
- I joined the band Elements of Addiction as bassist, to supplement/complement/augment my ongoing work with Anti-Social Club and other musical projects.
- I coached my younger daughter's soccer team through the spring and fall seasons, with mixed but respectable results.
- I became a grandfather, at the ripe old age of 36. (!)
- I traveled to Los Angeles for my cousin's wedding, visited my brothers in North Carolina and Pennsylvania, and hung out with my friends for a long weekend at Cape Hatteras.
- I ran a 5-mile race with my wife and brother-in-law. I also signed up for a half-marathon that is just 2 weeks away and am filled with doubt that I'll be able to compete since I haven't been training much at all.
- For the first time in ages, my wife and I actually started climbing out of debt.
- We experienced the snowiest winter ever recorded in Washington DC, including two major blizzards.
I also realized that the future is really here now. I was a starry-eyed pre-adolescent boy when the movie 2010: The Year We Make Contact came out in the theaters in 1984. I remember being fascinated with some of the imagery, particularly the "futuristic" on-Earth segments that included shots of Roy Scheider working on the beach on a laptop computer, of him running alongside the road while some non-gasoline powered car passes by, of the field of satellite dishes (probably the Very Large Array) out in the desert.
As a boy, these images of a distant time to come (but which I would likely live to see) filled me with a measure of hope and optimism for the future. Now the real 2010 is upon us, and while we haven't yet found alien civilizations (although we have started identifying exoplanets by the dozens), the technological reality of today is in some ways as exciting and breathtaking as it was in the imagination of 25 years ago.
Despite all the challenges we face, I still remain hopeful and optimistic for the future. And I will do my best to recommit to posting in this blog, if not weekly then at least somewhat regularly.
Outpost 420 is back online.
A lot can happen in a year. A quick update:
- I did get singled out for promotion, just like my fortune cookie promised (see my blog post from Feb. 14, 2009).
- I finished my MPA and can now forever bask in the glow of my scholastic grandeur.
- I joined the band Elements of Addiction as bassist, to supplement/complement/augment my ongoing work with Anti-Social Club and other musical projects.
- I coached my younger daughter's soccer team through the spring and fall seasons, with mixed but respectable results.
- I became a grandfather, at the ripe old age of 36. (!)
- I traveled to Los Angeles for my cousin's wedding, visited my brothers in North Carolina and Pennsylvania, and hung out with my friends for a long weekend at Cape Hatteras.
- I ran a 5-mile race with my wife and brother-in-law. I also signed up for a half-marathon that is just 2 weeks away and am filled with doubt that I'll be able to compete since I haven't been training much at all.
- For the first time in ages, my wife and I actually started climbing out of debt.
- We experienced the snowiest winter ever recorded in Washington DC, including two major blizzards.
I also realized that the future is really here now. I was a starry-eyed pre-adolescent boy when the movie 2010: The Year We Make Contact came out in the theaters in 1984. I remember being fascinated with some of the imagery, particularly the "futuristic" on-Earth segments that included shots of Roy Scheider working on the beach on a laptop computer, of him running alongside the road while some non-gasoline powered car passes by, of the field of satellite dishes (probably the Very Large Array) out in the desert.
As a boy, these images of a distant time to come (but which I would likely live to see) filled me with a measure of hope and optimism for the future. Now the real 2010 is upon us, and while we haven't yet found alien civilizations (although we have started identifying exoplanets by the dozens), the technological reality of today is in some ways as exciting and breathtaking as it was in the imagination of 25 years ago.
Despite all the challenges we face, I still remain hopeful and optimistic for the future. And I will do my best to recommit to posting in this blog, if not weekly then at least somewhat regularly.
Outpost 420 is back online.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
blurred
(song 4 on the album Otherwise Bleak eXistence)
nights pass sitting at the window
waiting for you to come around
I’m in this groovy isolation
watching the moonlight touch the ground
I had some guests that sat at my table
they came from other parts of town
and as they laughed I looked inside them
discovered there’s no one around
and all around are walls and a dark room
the music flows a soft sweet sound
the alcohol it works inside me
the echoes in my head bring me down
to you, but just a vision of you
and it seems that the sun will never come
to take me away to the place I need to be
and it’s hard when you know that all you love is far away
and I know all this waiting is doing me no good
but should I stop or should I move on when either way I’ll die?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
