Memo to self: pause in the moment to acknowledge that the moment is there. Because sometimes, the moment can be hard to detect, even in the moment. Highlight of my day so far - if we set aside the vivid waking dreams in the long century between first waking up and coming to full consciousness - was that moment of impatience as I was feeding the hens. Straightening up - because impatience is a reminder that life's now rather than in a few minutes - and thinking, "I would have missed this." The breezy air, mainly, and the sound of the trees, the light on those windows and the white-painted wall.
The task of being out in the open, welcoming the big white duck that has resumed its habit of turning up for breakfast, letting out the resident ducks, with their clamour, all bustling off together, busy with much to say, and the hens, circumspect, feeling their way over the morning earth to the grain and whatever else it is that they see to eat. Decision to ditch yesterday's plan for today, take it slowly, maybe light a bonfire, catch up on some reading ... live in this moment of stillness in front of the screen. The door propped open. Nature is making a wind-noise and this laptop is making a machine-noise. The bird-song is tentative and the wind could go either way: it's a fresh, breezy day, but with, or without, rain?
We gain access to everything through the imagination, don't we? Everything is given meaning, given value, given distinction from everything else, through the imagination. Even discovery, and I don't just mean 'scientific' discovery, poses the question: how do we find an answer, if we don't know enough to frame the question? How can we ask, if we don't even know whether there will be an answer? I mean 'is' rather than 'will be' because the answers pre-exist the questions; that's implicit in the term 'discovery'. And the 'answer'. If there's no question, what is it?
The task of being out in the open, welcoming the big white duck that has resumed its habit of turning up for breakfast, letting out the resident ducks, with their clamour, all bustling off together, busy with much to say, and the hens, circumspect, feeling their way over the morning earth to the grain and whatever else it is that they see to eat. Decision to ditch yesterday's plan for today, take it slowly, maybe light a bonfire, catch up on some reading ... live in this moment of stillness in front of the screen. The door propped open. Nature is making a wind-noise and this laptop is making a machine-noise. The bird-song is tentative and the wind could go either way: it's a fresh, breezy day, but with, or without, rain?
We gain access to everything through the imagination, don't we? Everything is given meaning, given value, given distinction from everything else, through the imagination. Even discovery, and I don't just mean 'scientific' discovery, poses the question: how do we find an answer, if we don't know enough to frame the question? How can we ask, if we don't even know whether there will be an answer? I mean 'is' rather than 'will be' because the answers pre-exist the questions; that's implicit in the term 'discovery'. And the 'answer'. If there's no question, what is it?