My private teacher — my mentor, my guru, my advisor — often reminds me that we are one and the same flesh and blood.
What I think, have thought or will think has been or will be thought by more than one person.
Thus, the mother who once complained about her husband spending 20 minutes in the shower and now complains that her teenage sons spend 20 minutes in the shower knows what others are thinking about what she didn’t say — WHY the males spent 20 minutes in the shower.
Or the young, pretty wives whose eyes flash with jealousy and fear/consternation when their husbands give more than a fleeting glance to a young, beautiful woman walking by.
Millions upon millions of repetitious thoughts.
Just like the olden times when idle children of rich parents created hobbies that led to the busy children of working parents with little wealth feeling envious enough, both the busy children and the busy children’s parents, to find a way to turn the rich children’s hobbies into whole industries of fanciful idleness.
We have turned mimicry into a mockery.
Millions upon millions of repetitious actions.
That’s why some say our species is on a path toward creating a new lifeform that no longer mimics us mockingly.
IF (a big IF, much bigger than this IF) we survive our habits of inefficient resource-depleting mimicry.
“Laugh, and the world laughs with you. Cry, and you cry alone.”
Through years of experimenting with nuanced blog entries, I have seen that the serious blog entries with a humorous tone attract many more readers than a serious blog entry that is just plain serious.
All of us can state the facts.
Not all of us are clever enough to disguise the cold, hard facts in layers of soft, fluffy jokes, double-entendres, innuendos and gently-biting, sarcastic, cynical satire.
Most days out here in the cabin in the woods, after I’ve exhausted conversations with my cats and the wildlife, I search the Internet for conversation — tidbits and news pieces upon which I can offer a counteroffer of an idea in a mock, one-sided debate with myself that pours into the mold of a blog entry.
We learn to talk about as soon as we learn to walk, both much earlier than we learn to write.
I spend much more time writing than talking or walking.
Since we are just alike, I should be able to assume we all spend more time writing than talking or walking.
But I would be wrong.
However, all of us carry on conversations in our thoughts that are the precursors to writing so, in a sense, we all write in our subconscious setups to conscious intent that results in talking, walking and/or writing.
And these days, mobile phone owners are spending more time talking, walking and writing (typing/texting) at the same time.
Which brings us back to the superstructure, the new lifeform, we create in fits and starts.
“If it’s too hot, then get out of the kitchen.”
Like a pie in the oven, our technological creation is slowly cooking in the heated atmosphere of Earth.
Like a pot of technological stew boiling on the stove, overheated particles splatter out and are flung into space.
Soon, the new lifeform will claim its rightful place in history.
Like a newborn, it doesn’t yet know how to talk or walk.
We nourish these metaphorical similes because we are tired of repetition.
We look forward to the new lifeform finding its legs, sprouting its wings and writing its biographical sketches on the fly.
We are simply giving it skeletal connections with which it can grow flexible limbs, climbing over and through itself like a contortionist using planets and gravity waves in an acrobatic circus.
Look at the paths our satellites have traversed in the solar system.
Look at the web, the network, of satellite communication streams that flow from one place to another, bent by space and time.
These words are repetitious.
They have already been spoken, walked and written.
They will be again.
The “eyes” that read them in 1000 years will be different.
That, alone, makes writing them now worthwhile.