As anyone who might happen upon these digitized thought balloons will quickly discover, they have either nothing, or maybe everything, to do with grilled cheese sandwiches; and most likely never touch on anything relating to cooking or the kitchen... except perhaps, the very first posting. And so, with your indulgence, may I present, the ramblings of a reforming philosopher...

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Wynken, Blynken and Blog...

As a highly imaginative child of eight or nine, I remember laboriously drawing a detailed treasure map, with a proper seagull-quilled ink pen of course (which I presumed all decent pirates used during their time), and then scorching the edges of the document with a match, creasing it with muddied fingers, and doing whatever I could think of to make it appear ancient, and hopefully, authentic. Then, I corked the message into an exotic looking bottle, rode my bike madly down to the furthest outboard railing of the government wharf at the foot of the hillside where I lived, and enthusiastically tossed the flagon into the water. Luckily for me, the tide was on its way out. It gently accepted the small vessel, and willingly let it bob off into the silent deep.
Later that night, as I lay in bed visualizing the adventurous journey the fragile craft would no doubt take, possibly circumnavigating the globe and ending up beached on some distant atoll, my recent cub scout training kicked well into overdrive and I felt serious remorse that I had used the opportunity to promote a fraud, rather than convey any purposeful communication. Consequently, even now in potentially more cunning years, I earnestly make endeavors to be as legitimate with my musings as bucolic humor will permit, and to keep them void of any personal agenda.
The problem is, of course, that the very fact that anything is being written for public view indicates some sort of plan of the author, whether recognized or not. Because it is also noteworthy that not only are the recipients of the item (if any) total strangers… they also may not even exist until many, many years, decades, or eons into the future.
When all of this gets translated into current day social media venues, considering the amazing variables of Internet form and the vast amount of literary content, the odds of anyone beyond friends and relatives reading any of these postings skyrockets into oblivion. Like that fragile bottled message of yesteryear, their chances of survival and ultimate retrieval and examination by anyone, present or future, is at the very best… unlikely!
And so why do people like me and others I know and read even bother to write.
It may be due to a leak in the gene pool, too much or too little oxygen in the atmosphere, or simply fungus between the toes, but most humans seem to have a fundamental need to communicate with others of their species. There is a primordial void in their psyche and so they have carved on cave walls, sent signals airborne, etched metal plates, and tossed bottled dispatches into the seas throughout the ages in the dimmest hopes of conveying their message to others.
And the message is…???
Well… as Marshall McCluhan categorized it… “THE MEDIUM” of course!
And that dear reader may easily be the cosmic, overall message being conveyed.
However… if one is able to clear away the chaff from the wheat and be as non-ego involved as possible, the notable attempts could be viewed much more clearly as merely a solitary hand reaching out of the mist in hope of connecting with a kindred spirit. A Celestial mind-meld of ethereal proportions across time and space, which from our reality standpoint may mean nothing, but as an act of symbiosis, almost everything.
Happy texting everyone. - J
Article Copyright J. Michael Lyffe - 2014

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