Saturday, October 23, 2004
Autobiographical 20 -X- ’03
Sometimes I wonder about that tiny group of cells that once formed a cluster in my infant cranium, still soft from birth & with the missing plate on top not yet grown over. This would be the tiny cluster of cells that connected with the auditory section of my brain, that had the particular duty to recognize the murmurings of my mother’s voice comforting me, as she assured me that I had her protection and my surroundings were friendly.
Today, in my seventieth decade, I wonder the fate of those cells if they still exist and where they may be, or where is their secret; their unique ability to recognize my mother’s voice and to know its message of comfort and security.
The cells slowly gave way as I grew & my brain developed, cells that painlessly unnoticed dissolved into new matter as my body used them to create new brain tissue. But what of their message? Together, they then produced a tiny electrical impulse that told me I heard my mother’s voice, the sound of reassurance and comfort. When the cells became material for other cells, what happened to their message, that message that told me, of all the information my brain could obtain and contain, that this was a sound different than any other in my world? Where does that message lie today, all these years later? If my mother were to utter those sounds, could some remote corner in my brain still recognize the familiar soft reassurance? Would it still have the power to calm me? Or is the tiny electrical impulse gone, somehow lost in time & space?
There are times when I step out the door, or maybe I’m working in the yard, & the wind pipes up a certain way, maybe a fresh breeze from a certain direction, & I find myself noticing how that particular breeze would be perfect for sailing. I used to sail, & there is always that breeze speaks to you telling you it is just right for the boat you happen to have. The boat I enjoyed the most was a somewhat tender 14’ sloop-rigged boat, that lacked roller reefing, though it dearly needed it. Its sails made her a trifle overpowered, but in just the right breeze, she was a pleasure to sail. It was an experience all its own, to trim the boat up just right, with a good steady breeze of perhaps 7-10 knots, and head the boat just off the wind, sensing the combination of course and wind. There is a kind of balance I have not found in other experiences, not in ice-skating, nor kite flying, nor other sports made for man to interface with Nature. The boat seems to awaken, perhaps rise up & come to life in a way other inanimate objects cannot. The boat seems to speak to the skipper, ‘now---here we go, together, let’s capture this wind, let’s interact.’
Sometimes I wonder about that tiny group of cells that once formed a cluster in my infant cranium, still soft from birth & with the missing plate on top not yet grown over. This would be the tiny cluster of cells that connected with the auditory section of my brain, that had the particular duty to recognize the murmurings of my mother’s voice comforting me, as she assured me that I had her protection and my surroundings were friendly.
Today, in my seventieth decade, I wonder the fate of those cells if they still exist and where they may be, or where is their secret; their unique ability to recognize my mother’s voice and to know its message of comfort and security.
The cells slowly gave way as I grew & my brain developed, cells that painlessly unnoticed dissolved into new matter as my body used them to create new brain tissue. But what of their message? Together, they then produced a tiny electrical impulse that told me I heard my mother’s voice, the sound of reassurance and comfort. When the cells became material for other cells, what happened to their message, that message that told me, of all the information my brain could obtain and contain, that this was a sound different than any other in my world? Where does that message lie today, all these years later? If my mother were to utter those sounds, could some remote corner in my brain still recognize the familiar soft reassurance? Would it still have the power to calm me? Or is the tiny electrical impulse gone, somehow lost in time & space?
There are times when I step out the door, or maybe I’m working in the yard, & the wind pipes up a certain way, maybe a fresh breeze from a certain direction, & I find myself noticing how that particular breeze would be perfect for sailing. I used to sail, & there is always that breeze speaks to you telling you it is just right for the boat you happen to have. The boat I enjoyed the most was a somewhat tender 14’ sloop-rigged boat, that lacked roller reefing, though it dearly needed it. Its sails made her a trifle overpowered, but in just the right breeze, she was a pleasure to sail. It was an experience all its own, to trim the boat up just right, with a good steady breeze of perhaps 7-10 knots, and head the boat just off the wind, sensing the combination of course and wind. There is a kind of balance I have not found in other experiences, not in ice-skating, nor kite flying, nor other sports made for man to interface with Nature. The boat seems to awaken, perhaps rise up & come to life in a way other inanimate objects cannot. The boat seems to speak to the skipper, ‘now---here we go, together, let’s capture this wind, let’s interact.’
Thursday, October 21, 2004
wish I knew whether anyone read this stuff.
Fall, in the Southern Appalachians. Leaves have stayed on a little longer than usual, & taking their time changing color. Leaf fall is slow but the trees kept them on probably owing to the recent hvy rains.
Hunningbirds left about 2 wks ago, other birds migrated thru recently. Few Monarchs, some I saw were too hi to net for tagging.
If yr sentimental as I am, you may enjoy a movie we just rented. 'Malena' an Italian product, subtitles were fine, 2 Acad award nominations for best music, & best cinematographie. Well deserved. Excellent story fairly simple, but the photography ws so good, it made watching it worthwhile for that alone.
Voted last wk as soon as the early voter offc opened. Next day waited in a line of cars for a total of 5 hrs for the flu shot.
Fall, in the Southern Appalachians. Leaves have stayed on a little longer than usual, & taking their time changing color. Leaf fall is slow but the trees kept them on probably owing to the recent hvy rains.
Hunningbirds left about 2 wks ago, other birds migrated thru recently. Few Monarchs, some I saw were too hi to net for tagging.
If yr sentimental as I am, you may enjoy a movie we just rented. 'Malena' an Italian product, subtitles were fine, 2 Acad award nominations for best music, & best cinematographie. Well deserved. Excellent story fairly simple, but the photography ws so good, it made watching it worthwhile for that alone.
Voted last wk as soon as the early voter offc opened. Next day waited in a line of cars for a total of 5 hrs for the flu shot.
