A swirling of cosmic matter, chaotic eddies hotter than fire and faster than sound, eventually solidified into the sun and the planets. If you look at them today this theoretical genesis is not an obvious fact. You might be tempted to think that they have always been as they are. According to science, you would be wrong about that.
These people we write are similar. We do not create them from nothing. They come together and are mostly inevitable. Forces beyond our control pull together the swirling pictures and symbols into these people we write. Take, for example, this woman. She is all in black and white. Her head is covered tightly by a shawl. She kneads her knuckled hands and shakes and weeps through aged eyes for her lost son. She begs panagia mou to bring him home. Some part of her knows that it is too late, that he is dead. We did not create this woman. She grew in our minds from seeds planted over many years.
A blues singer, another woman, sings a cover of When Doves Cry by Prince Rogers Nelson. She knows that we only put together existing things in new ways, regardless of the level of abstraction chosen. New words don't mean anything unless you define them with old ones. Someone once said, "Everything can ultimately be defined with only the words 'Yes' and 'No'. These are the basic words." Was this person right? No, but they were approaching an important idea, so also yes. Ultimately, however, no.
We put together old things in new ways over the weekend. It was good to see Rick and Toadman, and their wives and children. These guys are some of my basic elements, my original people, my good friends. It reminded me that I should shake hands with real people more often, especially people I love.
Hello, friends. I hope your weekend and, for some of you, holiday were refreshing and rejuvenating. Tell me how you are.
Later. Love.
