WARNING! This issue of OBS Post is full of neglected desire and miscellaneous thoughts that tend to cramp one’s mind. Simultaneously, it is a purge of the past with an exclamation to the future of all living things including my own. That said, enjoy this meandering of thoughts and thinks of it is my homage to Jack Kerouac and being On the Road!
And I listen to Kerouac as I write today—right now he wails Blues and Haikus with saxophones singing in the background and sometimes the fore.
I feel like I’ve been away in a very strange place, these last couple of months. Transitioning from everyday living in a pseudo-city into roving around and finding ourselves ensconced on a farm has been quiet an interesting shift in realities. I am not complaining mind you, but it has been a massive transference in living authenticity. Boy, that was a mouthful. I am just saying Gentle Reader that we have undergone a massive change in lifestyle and I am still assessing it.
For example, a couple of things that strayed into my mind as of late. Have you ever wondered what the world would be like if there were no strip malls? And the codicil to such illustrious thought is my confusion understanding traffic and traffic jams. Like why the cars can’t just keep moving. Why do they have to bunch up and clog the system. I know not very significant but somewhat intriguing. Maybe they are all slowing down at the entrance to strip malls.
Nevertheless, life goes on and on!
February 29th did not happen this year but nevertheless (love that word) we (Shelley and I) delightfully experienced our 15th year of our marriage, and I could not be in love more.
If you know me, I consider words to be my playground and I have ground rules to my playing with them. Uppermost and foremost is that it is imperative to know the history of a word along with its definition. The history of a word takes my playground to a new level of understanding. So, I insist to myself to really, really understand a word, I must know where it comes from. And then let the games begin!
And thus my word of the week is survive, a most curious set of letters with a built-in alliteration. We are all surviving at something. We are all surviving to one degree or another. Every living thing is surviving. Surviving is the very essence of living. Even physical universe stuff is surviving although not living. Surviving is what we all have in common.
Life on the farm is all about survival. It is the knots that tie things together. I watch the leaves catch green instead of the dull brown that once surrounded me. Fresh veg are on the table. We eat what we grow—a novel idea for a city boy.
Let’s take that word apart.
Bottom-line, survive means to remain or continue in existence or use, it also implies depending upon usage to get along or remain healthy, happy, and unaffected despite some occurrence. It’s not a very complicated word with some sordid history. Survive was first used in the English language in the early to mid-1400s. It comes from the French survivre, and from there Latin supervīvere, equivalent to super-super- + vīvere “to live”. (Thank you Dictionary.com)
We are all surviving on this the third planet from the sun. We don’t spend much time these days wondering if there is life on some other planet also working to survive. Sometimes, the chore of surviving seems overwhelming, especially in these days of inflation and combustible friendships due to political angles. But survival comes naturally from the birdie in the sky to highest revered monk. We cannot do anything but survive. The trick is how do we gussy it up and make surviving more attractive than scavenging for food to feed your family.
Somehow, we must adjust our mindset and work together instead of going off in every direction but friendly. Families that work together, neighbors working together, whole cities and villages working together! And would it surprise you that somehow at the end of the line entire nations working together. This would be a Mitzvah (good deed) of the highest order. How about we decide to end the individuation and just find points of agreement and work the f*ck together. Heck, maybe if we just pulled it off once it could become a habit. Then this stuff called survival would just be a pleasure!
And here he is the man who went on the road and helped start a literary revolution.