Sometimes I have coffee with Wisdom. Whenever I have coffee with Wisdom she always orders tea. She sits across from me and inhales the aromatic steam. She doesn't speak much, only when she really has something to say. She mostly listens instead of speaking, so there are long periods of contented silence, because I am the same way.
Today I was telling Wisdom about some things I have been thinking, but I felt I was getting on her nerves a little. I was in a giddy mood, carried away by a silly humor. Wisdom is quick to laugh at a funny idea, but I get the impression that random and fitful whimsy annoys her.
"Animal violence is pathological," I said, "unless it serves to meet a real and present animal need. Like the need to TiVo reality television, for example."
She glanced at me over her cup and communicated her opinion of my mood very clearly with a single blink that lingered just an instant too long.
"It's true," I continued. "Although we cannot escape animal life and its demands, I believe we spend - and rightfully so - an increasing percentage of our time as humans on activities less and less animal. In these fantastic activities, I believe violence has no place. Violence is a demand, valid at times, of the flesh." I was going to make a joke that referred to the Billy Idol song "Flesh for Fantasy," but I couldn't construct a funny formulation quickly enough.
"So," she said softly, "you're perceiving and communicating through the filter of radical dualism between flesh and mind. You fantasize mind and vilify flesh. It's an old Gnostic notion."
"Well, not exactly," I said, "I don't think violence in service of real animal needs is wrong. I don't think it's wrong to be an animal. I also don't believe that Elvis is still alive, so I'm clearly not falling into Gnostic heresy."
She sighed quietly and shook her head. "Your words betray your opinion that the terms 'violence' and 'Gnostic' are pejorative. In your mind you condescend to be animal."
"Sophie, Sophie, Sophie," I said. "You can read me like a book. I hope I'm better than the movie."
"Did you know," she asked, "that 'Elvis' is an anagram for 'lives?'"
"No!" I said in mock shock, clapping my hand to my cheek. "You should tell Priscilla! 'Wisdom' is an anagram for 'widows,' after all."
"No it's not," she laughed a little, in spite of herself.
"It is an anagram for 'dim sow,'" I replied.
She glared at me in mock anger.
"I'm sure it's just a coincidence," I said, smiling a little and peering down into my coffee.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
P. S. - Aphter: 39. Thanks for stopping by.
