Sunday, April 17, 2011

Part I: By What Reasonings

I have gnawing inkling that the notions I accept as truth may not meet a proper definition of sound reasoning. Certain knowledge demands trust. Trust in science, trust in nature, trust in the certainties of life; in fact, many of life’s pleasure’s come from accepting each of our judgments in their unique fullness, while life’s disappointments arise from questioning them. 

We write our own histories in our minds; good and bad, but when we analyze those stories, I can’t help but feel like an anonymous translator of my own mind. Some thoughts cause me to feel like the hopeless dramatist, while others, implore the presence of the hugely successful rival of the picaroon that disappoints me so. I vacillate between puppet and puppeteer, and like anyone enjoying a theatrical performance for a second or third time, I revel in reliving my favorite episodes, which are so easily triggered by my senses and perceptions - in a familiar melody, a smell of jasmine, or a lingering scent of pine. It is my internal dialogue that acts as narrator extraordinaire monologuing my every thought and action. Skilled internal critics who claim the distinction of familiarity with the first act provide their soliloquy, which can either ward off or inflame melancholia extremus. 

My critics are well-versed in those stunning, sensational heroes and heroins of the past. I have my curious mind to fault for their erudition and insistence in holding my thoughts and actions above the ordinary.  A constant bombardment of wisdom’s outpouring from a Hellenistic age streams along my mind’s eye like a ticker tape transmitting stock price information over an ancient telegraph line. One such strip reads: In the brave exploits of his life and in his death we feel that he is always mounted on his high horse - Montaigne on Socrates.

My modern critic responds with a jive indicating that such sentiments are obsolete in  present time, living on only in the archaic transmissions of my ancestors. My nostalgic critic bursts in with facts supporting the efficacy of this early device, emphasizing its resemblance to a piano keyboard whose black and white keys brilliantly conveyed letters, numbers, and fractions in a symphony of form and meaning. 

I step in to moderate, “Now, now. It wasn’t until 1986 that a ticker type device was even able to operate in true real time. Celebrate these maxims and insights as achievements and evidence of the history of human thought. Embrace them as they evolved and make way for the novelties we contribute today. The thoughts and guidance from both the commonest and best-known people throughout history continue to ignite and inspire, proliferating themselves in the modern ideals and notions we presently accept as true. Disregarding their origins results in disregarding our own, it is a grave account when we allow a break of energy to abort a natural progeny of ideas before they have yet to exist. 

And for a moment, all is quiet. 

Post a Comment