From: ed@somewhere.in.the.uk   
      
   oldernow wrote:   
   > On 2025-04-03, Ed Cryer  wrote:   
   >   
   >> Maybe you're as capable of appreciating the finer things   
   >> of "reality" as I am. Try this.  Walk down a suburban   
   >> street in late spring. Smell the budding world of nature.   
   >> The snowdrops have come and gone, then the crocuses,   
   >> then the daffodils, followed by the dandelions. And then   
   >> the hedgerows bud, brown turning green, and the empty   
   >> tree branches are thickening with new leaves a-coming.   
   >> The birds are very busy as the world renews under a bright   
   >> sun.  Surrender to it. It makes you want to sing along.   
   >   
   > But... my singing - not to mention the idyllicy of the   
   > scene - ended abruptly when what is called an "asshole"   
   > drove too near me in their muffler-free vehicle, whose   
   > burning-oil-rich exhaust overcame the flowery scents, the   
   > driver ejecting what is called "trash" from the vehicle   
   > window nearest them upon the vehicle's tire tracks through   
   > the flowers, the noise of it all convincing the birds   
   > they best flee the scene for their lives being in danger -   
   > a thought that I, too, had until a hallucinated inner cup   
   > of testosteronic pride boiled over into an overall aura of   
   > "I'm going to kill that motherfucking piece of shit if I   
   > ever get the chance!", which difficult-to-suppress aura   
   > masked the scene you described into oblivion.   
   >   
   > Grant it, none of that is as bad as words on a screen   
   > insisting their author knows more about you than you do.   
   >   
   > But, as we say, "it's right up there"....   
   >   
   >> I hope you can respond to that with some degree of   
   >> joy. It's very poetic, Wordsworthian almost **, but it   
   >> contains something that most people feel in their bones.   
   >   
   > It's also mostly - if not entirely - in the hoping/dream   
   > zone.   
   >   
   > A seeming "reality" seemingly emerges from the faith-ful   
   > (read: full-of-faith) repetition of thoughts about it.   
   >   
      
   Oh, man, I sympathise with that.   
   Can I join you in Buddha's garden? He's usually depicted sitting amidst   
   flowery nature; looking very contented in his Nirvana state.   (:-   
      
   Ed   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)