What A Day, Man!

This morning, on my way to contemplation rock up there in the Kilpatrick Hills, I say without thinking another phrase that spontaenously erupts whenever I'm at one with the earth: What a day, man! And then I realize as it sounds itself through this high altitude air, that what I am actually saying is, 'What a daemon!' the daemon being that inner oracle, that fully conscious subconscious, that cosmic being, that knows everything and nothing.

'What a daemon!' as in 'my oracle is some entity', for it has guided me up here into the rarefied airs, away from the noise and into silence, where I might contemplate existence in its everythingness and nothingness. 

What a day, man, indeed!

 

 

 

Walking as a Four-legged Activity

Walking I gathered this morning whilst cycling through Pollok Country Park and seeing a man 'walking' with his hands in his pockets is a four-legged enterprise. You see, the arms are actually legs that we have reconditioned away from the ground. This, one might argue, is where it all went wrong for the monkey (whilst all going right for 'man'). You can't really walk with your hands in your pockets. Indeed, you can't really do anything with your hands cuffed like that, can you? The legs need the other legs to keep in time, to offset the trot with a sort of pendulous swinging, harking back to our good old monkey days. Without this swing, the legs are not as free to move, not as rhythmic, and consequently the body (as the summit and pinnacle of those legs) not as spontaneously energized (and thus joyful). It's perhaps a measure of our own incarceration within our small made selves that we imprison the hands so readily, whether in pockets (that are actually handcuffs) or by constantly holding our phone like a child holds its doll, thus stifling our Being through hampering the primal activity of self-propulsion and immediate being. Walking requires the swing in order to be itself. Walking has always been a four legged activity even with the onset of bipedal creatures like man. We have just become so used to thinking differently, to seeing ourselves as different from other animals, but we're not. The sooner we transform our arms back into legs the better for everyone, for that will mean walking will become natural and joyful again (it's much easier to walk with four legs than with two). And that means no pockets or phones to conceal your being in.

 

Turnstile

 

I had this image of a turnstile in the countryside from where I have just returned - a coin-operated turnstile where you have to pay to 'enter Nature' and the unpaved. In the not so remote future, Nature has become so rare in her openness and pristineness that we have closed her up and coin-operated her and outfitted her with the mechanisms of the city. 

The stile is now the turnstile.