meme! - seven more words
The rules as I heard them: Comment to this post and I will pick seven things I would like you to talk about. They might make sense or be totally random. Then post that list, with your commentary, to your journal. Other people can get lists from you, and the meme merrily perpetuates itself.
My seven words from metyldapryde : ocean, ancestors, decay, endurance, socks, freedom, icicles
- Ocean
The ocean has always fascinated me. I can stand on the shore and look to the horizon for hours, forgetting time, swaying with the motion of the breaking waves. I remember - barely, being no more than 3 or 4 years old - sitting on the beach in Virginia, watching the Navy ships coming into harbor. I remember the surf on Kauai, and the long grey breakers rolling up on the coastal beaches of the Low Countries; I remember sitting on the deck of the Nathaniel Bowditch as we heeled with the wind, sun sparkling, rigging singing; and the gentle rocking as we rode at anchor, lulling us to sleep. And in a silent moment, if I try, I can still hear the surf, and the sea birds crying, and feel the rhythm of the waves.
- Ancestors
It would be…interesting, I guess, to know more about my forebears. But not interesting enough for me to make any great attempt to find out. Blood relationship is an accident of genetics; I’m more interested in, more concerned with, the people with whom I actually interact. They are the ones who affect the course of my life.
- Decay
Wood turning to punk on the forest floor, leaf skeletons like lace, the shapeliness of clean bones - these seem natural, right, even fascinating. Yet I have a horror of decaying food or flesh, can barely bring myself to deal with cleaning out the fridge - have tossed out perfectly good containers rather than face the nasty mess inside. Why is the natural process acceptable in one realm, and not in the other? What does this say about the associations I have with the decaying object? Is it that the wood was never destined for consumption, could not have carried corruption to my own flesh? Is this perhaps another manifestation of the revulsion healthy people often feel in the presence of illness?
Relationships, societies, civilizations also experience decay. The dead matter of the past makes way for new growth, and gives up its nutrient essence in its passing. Nothing is lost; all returns to the grand cycle, whether visible or unseen.
- Endurance
Something I’m continually learning about myself - what are my limits? What can I endure, what should I ask of myself, how far is too far? I know that in some respects I don’t test myself far enough, but take instead the easier path. But in other aspects of my life I think perhaps I expect too much. I wish to be granite, but am all too often sandstone instead…
- Socks
What a marvel! Small pieces of cloth that give such comfort, so much ease and warmth!
- Freedom
Freedom is the possibility of choice. Being able to say no - or yes. Having the option to try, and maybe to fail, and to choose whether to try again or to move on to something different. Being able to follow the path that is right for one’s self, in full acknowledgement of the possible consequences, but also with full right to the possible rewards.
When a person avoids or denies the truth, or abdicates responsibility, or seeks dependence, seeking to hide from or change objective reality, that person gives up freedom. Yet when a person takes on a responsibility, to a person, a thing, a country or an idea, willingly and with full knowledge, that person limits their own path, and thereby also gives up freedom. But the first loss is negative and injurious to the self, while the second loss can paradoxically lead to growth and a later, wider, greater freedom.
- Icicles
What feet are, without socks?