I drove in to the office this morning baffled by how much the air felt and smelled of summer – but not necessarily my expectation of this summer, here, now. It felt and smelled like some long ago summer in a different place, at a different point in time, in another life. I was transported back to muggy childhood summer mornings in Maryland, near the Chesapeake Bay. Swim lessons. Lazy afternoons at Grandmother’s house, sipping ice cold rootbeer on the screened in porch, listening to the fan turn. Early mornings outside under the clear blue sky. Afternoons curled up with a book, in front of the air conditioner in my bedroom window. Pool parties and barbecues. Nostalgia triggered by the warm summer morning and air scented with summer flowers and mown grass. The recollections this evoked were clear and sharp and seemed more real than the commute itself felt in the moment.
I breathe, exhale, and relax, and move on from the moment of nostalgia to face the new work day (and week). It takes me a few minutes and an additional cup of coffee to gather my thoughts and feel more organized – being away for a few days can do that. lol Generally speaking, though, things are already quite routine and ordinary. Suits me fine.
The office ventiliation is already working pretty hard, and soon I’ll have to close the blinds on these big windows to prevent this small space from becoming uncomfortably warm. S’ok – I expect it from summer days. I smile, thinking of my Traveling Partner at home. I miss him – we’ve had quite a few lovely days just being together recently, and I enjoy that time we spend together very much. I yawn, unexpectedly tired – tired? Am I actually tired, or just feeling relaxed? I look out the windows into the clear blue summer sky. It’s a good day to laze in a hammock in the shade, sipping iced tea and trying again to read Proust. lol That’s not what is on today’s agenda, though; there’s just me and this work in front of me, and it’s time to get on with that. It’s time to begin again.
I’m sitting in the sunshine in a favorite spot along a favorite trail, at the edge of an oak grove, between meadow and marsh (although the marsh is less marsh-y and more meadow-y this time of year making the distinction less clear).
I’m taking a few minutes for meditation, and writing a few words before I get to my feet and finish my walk. Lovely morning for it. I enjoy this time and often use it for reflecting on this or that, and sometimes just to relax, breathe, and “hear myself think”. This morning? No agenda. No errands. No necessary shopping on the way home. Just this pleasant summer morning, this sunny spot in an oak grove, and these quiet solitary moments. It’s enough. Feels almost luxurious.
Yesterday, at my Traveling Partner’s suggestion, I drove over to the coast and enjoyed a couple hours on the beach, exploring tide pools and walking with my camera, my thoughts, and my eyes on the horizon. Time well-spent. I returned home quite tired and satisfied with the day. I don’t know what I’ll do with today. My finger is still healing, no longer wrapped in a cumbersome bandage and surgical dressing, just a bandaid, but it’s not yet healed enough for hard work, gardening, or household cleaning solutions and still needs to be kept quite clean and dry and protected from damage. Maybe I’ll read? Do a bit of laundry? I just don’t know yet.
I sigh to myself and let all that go; it’s not important in this moment that I know what I’m doing in some future moment. Not this morning, on this lovely summer morning, perched on a fence rail, feeling the sun on my back. I let myself just enjoy this moment right here, now, while it lasts. Soon enough it’ll be time to begin again.
I’ve been on the search for ‘Catch Me As I Fall’ by codemonkey – when I checked with the Wayback Machine it comes up but the actual story does not load…
Catch Me As I Fall by codemonkey [NC-17]
<https://web.archive.org/web/20111015152722/http://wraithbait.com/viewstory.php?sid=16009&warning=12>
<https://web.archive.org/web/20111015152722/http://wraithbait.com/viewuser.php?uid=3308>
The rest of the info below:
Summary: A crossover with the Dragonriders of Pernbook by Anne McCaffrey. Rodney's whole life was changed when he became the rider of dragon Laurenth. Now he has to find his place in Benden Weyr and figure out his feelings for handsome dragonrider J'hon
Categories: Crossovers > Slash Pairings, Slash Pairings > McKay/Sheppard
Characters: John Sheppard, Radek Zelenka, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagan
Genres: Angst, First Time, Romance
Warnings: Adult themes
Chapters: 2 [Table of Contents]
Series: None
Word count: 7298; Completed: Yes
Updated: 27 Mar 2011; Published: 26 Mar 2011
Does anyone know where I can find the story or perhaps have a copy available? Any help would be greatly appreciated. Thanks in advance for any help.
What we choose to consume matters. Fact is, all our choices matter to one degree or another. The results we get from any one choice over any other are reliably different. This is true of the food we eat, the books and periodicals we read, the services we use, the consumer goods we purchase, the platforms we subscribe to, the movies and videos we watch, and the politicians we elect. The tl;dr is that our choices matter, in our own life and in the world.
Businesses succeed or fail on their choices – and on ours as customers and consumers.
Societies rise, develop and fall based on the choices of chosen leaders enacting chosen policies.
We thrive or struggle based on our individual choices, and the choices of those around us.
It’s everything. From the choice of the food we put into our mouths (which could nurture or poison us), to the choice of who is best to lead us, every choice matters, every day, all the time. Are you up to the challenge? Are you ready to make willful, informed, eyes-open choices and also to accept responsibility for the choices you have made?
Are you even making actual choices or are you tumbling randomly through life with your choices being dictated by the opinions of others, or based on the constant media bombardment of advertising and “infotainment”? Are you even thinking your own thoughts, or has your mind been taken over by ideological bullet points, loyalty to party platforms, and AI slop?
…Who even are you?
As I left town heading for a favorite trail, I saw the beginnings of a beautiful colorful sunrise. I knew I had “missed my moment”. My timing would give me brief views of spectacular color, but no opportunity to do more than watch it as I drove. I faced a lived moment of natural splendor that could be appreciated and enjoyed, but not preserved. That’s okay. Hell, that is the truth of most moments. I don’t fight it. I drive on drinking in the scenery and watching the sunrise evolve from the magenta and luminous pinks to bold bright orange, then fading to hues of peach, salmon, and mauve. Gorgeous. Words don’t capture the moment.
I’m driving. Progress. The finger I had surgery on is still bandaged, but I’m back to my usual pain management, and driving, which feels good. My Traveling Partner suggests I take it easy today. I embrace that suggestion enthusiastically; I’m not quite ready to do housework, with one hand still impaired. He suggested maybe I entertain myself with a drive to the coast after my walk, and I agree that sounds like a great idea. Choices, eh? Today, and every day.
I breathe, exhale, and relax – and set off down the trail after watching the last splashes of the colorful sunrise fade to a new day. Reaching my halfway point, I sit awhile on a handy fence rail at the edge of a meadow. I watch the sunshine light up the oak trees in an adjacent grove. Beautiful. Also choices. I don’t think about every choice I make, in every moment. Some things seem to flow one moment to the next in some determinate “natural” way, but these too are choices, and they are the sort of choices that can easily become problematic; they are not carefully considered and thoughtful. Even some brief pause between actions to consider the options is probably better than being on “autopilot” or following some path as though I were on rails (like a train more than a hike). I think about that as I watch little birds living their moments. “How much do they choose?”, I wonder.
Thinking things over is healthy. Critical thinking skills are worth developing, practicing, and using. It’s quite freeing to make a willful well-considered choice. Having real agency is powerful. These are all practices, and they are choices.
Choices upon choices requiring choices about choices – so many choices! I brush off my jeans as I get to my feet, still thinking about choices and the power we have to choose our path, and even the sort of world we want to live in. Every choice matters, and it’s already time to make the next choice and begin again.
It is the wee hours, and I’m awake. I haven’t yet fallen asleep, but I’ve enjoyed some lovely quiet time reading (re-reading a favorite classic, Siddhartha by Herman Hesse).
…I expected to fall asleep quickly.
An experience is very much what we make of it, and reality has no particular relationship to our expectations at all. I chuckle about it in the darkness. I’m unconcerned about having my device in front of my eyes right now, having dimmed the display to less than 25% and only “stopping by” while I drink some water and finish this cough drop to soothe my still irritated throat.
I was not wholly surprised to find myself wakeful. Different pain meds. Substantial changes in routine (to prepare for surgery), which included giving up supplements, and limiting or changing the timing of various medications and over-the-counter remedies. Of course I’m not asleep. I slept in this morning. I was drugged or unconscious much of the morning due to surgery. I slept for unmeasured hours after I was released to go home. Why would I even expect to actually be tired beyond the fatigue of injury itself? (Every healing surgery is also an experience of being injured, and systems interfered with!)
So. I’ve stirred myself enough to get some water. A cough drop. A change of position. (Picked another book, just in case sleeplessness persists.) I’ll meditate, then try sleep again and see where things stand when a new day dawns. That’ll be soon enough to begin again. First I need to take care of me (and brush aside these expectations cluttering things up my thinking, too, eh?).
Morning of a new day. Why that picture? Because the damned deer ate my roses (again) and I was thinking about that during the night. I’d waited 4 years for that rose (Golden Opportunity) to bloom! I’m glad I got to see her. The deer only eat tender new growth… many roses bloom on new growth – you see the problem? Could be little cages for every rose next year except those that the deer don’t favor (I suspect they are either too thorny, or don’t taste good for some reason).
My cup of coffee is good this morning. Hot. Well and carefully made. Exactly as I like it. I’m grateful, but apparently I inconsiderately left the counter a mess (everything is just a bit more difficult with my left hand impaired, but that’s no excuse for not noticing that I had dripped coffee and grounds on the counter and failed to clean them up). So human. My Traveling Partner called it out with some annoyance; no one likes waking up to a mess. He was kind enough to clean it up as he made his own coffee. I’m annoyed with myself for leaving it, though. I hope our morning together is pleasant otherwise. I’m mostly myself this morning, but still recovering, and a little impaired. I remind myself to slow down and be patient with myself and alert to my surroundings.
I finally slept last night. I slept until I woke, much later than I generally would. My timing all feels off. It’ll pass. There’s no pressure; I’m off work today to recover. I take my time doing the budget and payday stuff; I’m typing with only 9 fingers, presently, and it feels awkward with the finger that is not available being an index finger. This will also pass. A lot of the details of our human experience are quite temporary. Too temporary for a lot of fuss and bother or agitation, generally. It’d be nice if that were an easier idea to hold onto in a stressful moment! It takes practice – and the practice is in the lived experiences; results will vary. I sip my coffee and think about that. We become what we practice – there is persistence implied, and continued repetition over time. Effort. Verbs. Will.
It’s pleasant to have a Greek yogurt drink (peach) with my coffee this morning. I didn’t enjoy having to go to “clear liquids” only, for the 24 hours before my surgery. lol It was more about the loss of the sensual delight in tasting something good, less about hunger or blood sugar – the Ozempic definitely did it’s job there. Turns out that, at least for me, the experience of food and meals and tasting things is one of life’s real joys, and the day felt stripped of something precious without it. It wasn’t actually a big deal, it’s just genuinely nice not having to go without, and I’m appreciating that. There is real value in taking a moment to appreciate something, to feel it, to enjoy it, to be in that moment, so I make it a point to do that. It has tended to result in an implicit experience of life as pleasant and positive, generally, instead of the bleakness and feeling of futility that once characterized how I experienced my life. A very good practice (for me) and a change I’m very glad I made.
Yesterday was quite nice, after the surgery. I mostly slept, but when I woke it was to an experience of being cared for. My Traveling Partner was wonderful, (going with me to my surgery, bringing me home and caring for me all day) and the Anxious Adventurer did his part as well (bringing me a very nice sorbet to soothe my throat on his way home from work and taking care of dishes and trash and housekeeping stuff), and it was so nice to chillax over silly videos and munch pizza together at dinner time. No idea what today holds, really, nothing complicated – I’m giving myself the best chance I can to heal well and thoroughly without complications. I use my hands a lot. I’m grateful to have the use of them.
I think things over another few minutes. I hear my partner call to me from the other room, checking on me. It’s time to begin again.
It is morning. Well past dawn or sunrise. I’m off work – surgery today. Now and then my anxiety begins to flare up, mostly the result of troubling memories of past surgical experiences. It’s a “nothing” sort of thing. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I pull myself back into this moment. This surgery coming up today is quite minor. It’ll probably be done under a local anesthetic and finished in minutes. Regardless; the outcome will be what it is when that time comes. For now I enjoy my coffee in the garden.
So… It’s much later. It’s evening. My anxiety was worse than I expected (or was willing to acknowledge). I’m calling it a night and feeling a bit woozy from the last lingering after effects of the surgical stress, the anesthesia, and the pain medication they gave me for today and tomorrow. I don’t really expect to need it past then, and figure I’ll be on my usual meds in the usual way by Saturday for sure. It went fine. I was surprised that it was done under general anesthesia – seemed the sort of thing that could potentially have been handled with an exacto knife and a moment of moment of excessive frugality, perhaps. lol
… Getting everyday shit done is a tad more complicated by being drugged and one-handed, but it’s temporary…
In practical terms my ability to manage my anxiety skillfully was, at best, superficial and only barely adequate. As a result I managed to aggravate my Traveling Partner (first thing in the morning), who was trying to provide caregiving and support and manage his own worry without adding to my stress. He wasn’t fooled. I did manage to mystify the nurse at the surgical center with my higher-than-200/90 blood pressure when my records show my historical average around 135/70. lol She didn’t see my anxiety at all (and I didn’t explicitly call it out). She said later that I seemed very calm and steady, after I thanked her for helping to calm me before surgery. There’s something to learn from that. One clear takeaway is that “managing” and “masking” are not the same practices and can’t get the same results. I gotta work on that. It matters to choose the right tool for any job.
Still, it’s behind me now. My throat is a bit raw from their method of managing my respiration while I was unconscious. That’s not a complaint, just an observation. I’ll have some water, and a cough lozenge, get a good night’s sleep (I hope), and tomorrow, I’ll begin again.
I’m sipping my coffee in the office, thinking about things that have nothing whatsoever to do with work. I’ve got surgery tomorrow (minor), and a day off for recovering after that. The weekend is ahead, but I’ll likely be at least somewhat impaired (due to the specifics of the surgery). Doesn’t really matter, I’m just letting my mind wander, thoughts drifting by like clouds on a summer day. “Nothing to see here.” I’m just enjoying my coffee and a few minutes before the day begins in earnest.
…Clear liquids only for the next 24 hours (I say that like it really matters, but I don’t guess it does)…
I breathe, exhale, and relax. The steady wush of the ventiliation in the background does not blot out the whine of my tinnitus. I notice it, but I let that go – it’s not “important” or relevant to the moment (or to most moments), it’s just an irritant (if I focus on it for too long). Pleasant enough beginning to the day, I guess. There’s nothing wrong here. The sky is gray with heavy summer storm clouds – no colorful sunrise. My back aches. I put that out of my mind, too, as much as I am able. There’s nothing much to be done about it.
I sit with those thoughts that linger, making room for gratitude and thoughts of my garden. I feel fortunate to have gotten to see “Golden Opportunity” bloom (for the first time since she was planted in 2021!), before the deer ate those flowers and every bit of tender new growth from that rose bush. Oh, sure, I fuss about it and it’s aggravating, but like many of life’s most useful lessons, if I make room in my experience to understand a bigger picture, and develop a more nuanced perspective, I could learn something that has lasting value. I sit thinking about what drives the deer to my garden each Spring and early summer, and what they don’t eat. I contemplate what I could potentially do to discourage them from eating my roses and tender salad greens without wrecking the aesthetic of the garden with a lot of ugly fencing. I look at pictures of my roses. The specific thoughts I think in this quiet time are less important than that I do take this time for myself, to “hear myself think”, each day. It is a means of building resilience, and also of ensuring that I feel appreciated and heard by the one person who has to listen to all of my chatter (and internal dialogue) – the woman in the mirror. Self-care matters. This is part of that.
I sigh to myself when I glance at the clock and notice the time. Of course. It’s time to begin again.
Are you fed up with the deluge of “AI slop” being pushed at you on pretty nearly every platform you look to for information or entertainment, everywhere, all the time now? I know I am. AI “art” isn’t art. AI writing isn’t literature (nor, generally, is it worth reading at all). AI summaries of search results are highly prone to inaccuracies and are often quite ridiculous in spots, and sometimes unreadable. AI content is very often IP theft or plagiarism. It’s pretty awful. AI doesn’t catch its own mistakes; it can’t think, comprehend, or reason.
Hey, good news; there’s no AI here. I’m an actual real person. A human primate. My spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, poor syntax, and occasionally meaning-obscuring overuse of ellipses are 100% human and my own! I sit somewhere in some moment of self-reflection, and compose my actual thoughts, such as they are, using my own words, and I share them with you. Wow. My photos and images are generally my own (at least since I began bringing a camera along with me everywhere and viewing so much of my life through that lens). Music I link to isn’t mine, but I selected it myself, inspired by my experience, and chosen to enhance my writing in some way. I share my own art with you. My “unfiltered” take on life is offered up relatively fearlessly, too. I don’t need AI to do my thinking for me (and neither do you).
It is still possible to choose the content you consume with sufficient care to avoid AI slop, generally. (I block pages and content that are AI generated, once I recognize it – and I’m reliably seeking to determine that quickly. I’m not a fan.) I personally find garbage AI slop seriously cringe, and also don’t want to undermine the value of human content creation by encouraging that crap. I’m an artist. A writer. A photographer. It matters to me to differentiate between created works and “generated” works.
Anyway. No AI here (aside from the one use of it on my About page when ChatGPT launched). Oh, I’m aware of the potential inherent in AI, and professionally I stay current with what AI tools are capable of, presently. I just don’t prefer (or need) to use AI to write. 
The world is a fucking mess, eh? It’d be easy to shrug off AI concerns as unimportant, considering everything else going on. If you’re in a safe place, be sure to go outside. Take healthy breaks. Enjoy a moment with a friend. Take a walk. Watch clouds scoot across the sky. Smell flowers. Try a new recipe. Read a book. Learn a skill. Sit in a beautiful garden. Make something. You can live an actual life and form thoughts about those experiences. AI can’t. Enjoy your moments. These mortal lifetimes are fleeting.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit with my coffee, grateful for a new day, and a new opportunity to begin again. I watch the sun rise as the clock ticks on this mortal lifetime. My thoughts are my own, an idea I greatly enjoy.
… I notice the time… already a new moment… already a new beginning… What will I do with it?
I had previously searched for the story listed below about John remaining blue after ‘Conversion’.
helena eternals Before and after? http://www.wraithbait.com/viewstory.php?sid=10236
Unfortunately, I did not download a copy [banging head on my desktop]. Now, of course Wraithbait is no more. I’ve checked Archive.org with no luck. Does anyone know where I can get a copy? Please. Please. Please. Any help would be greatly appreciated. Thanks in advance.
---
The second story I’m searching for is McShep and one of the older fics I believe. John and Rodney are testing a new drive on a puddlejumper and due to a minor mistake [I think it was Rodney forgot to convert to or from decimal to binary when doing his calculations] they end up on in a different galaxy(?). The planet they eventually land on is barely compatible with supporting them. The plant life is not very nutritious. The animals are vicious. At one point one of the animals bites Rodney and he ends up with a permanent limp. John got really sick trying to eat one of the plants. It takes them several years to ‘charge’ the puddlejumper’s experimental engine so that they can travel back to Pegasus and Atlantis.
They finally return to Pegasus – first returning to the planet that the Athosians had settled on and then going back to Atlantis. Everyone is shocked that they’ve returned considering how long they’d been missing. Life of course had continued and moved on with Atlantis and Earth. Rodney had been married to Keller when they’d disappeared and in the time they were gone Keller had moved on. John and Rodney end up retiring because they have permanent health issues from living on the foodstuffs from where they’d ended up stranded. They both retire and live in the Pegasus Galaxy.
Does this ring any bells? Any help would be greatly appreciated. Thanks in advance.
We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim.
Eli Weisel, on the occasion of the award of the Nobel Peace Prize in Oslo, December 10, 1986
There’s not a lot else to say about that, is there? There are definitely some topics, events, and circumstances that don’t leave room for “being neutral” or “staying out of it”, aren’t there? Genocide comes to mind as a good example. How can a rational, emotionally mature human being be for genocide, ever? Trying to rationalize heinous acts by redefining them doesn’t change the reality on the ground, does it? I’m sipping my coffee thinking about war, and genocide, and violence generally, yes and even the bullshit pettiness and poorly managed individual anger that can lead so many individual human beings to commit some of the most terrible acts imaginable against other human beings. We put so much effort into teaching children to read, to write, to do basic math – and so little into teaching critical thinking or emotional intelligence. There’s no requirement for human beings to be so cruel, greedy, cowardly, or dishonest – we work pretty fucking hard to develop those characteristics in our children, and to reinforce them in each other. I find that whole idea pretty grotesque, honestly. We could do better.
Are we standing on the precipice of WW3? Who decides whether global conflict has risen to that level? Who decides whether any particular conflict in the world in which one nation seems to be taking bold steps to completely wipe out the population of the other is clearly definable as a “genocide”? Why the hell would we ever try to rationalize, justify, or excuse such horrible acts? “They’re our ally, so what they’re doing is not genocide” is not a sound logical argument. I sigh to myself and sip my coffee. I keep expecting humanity to grow the fuck up and stop using conflict as a tool, if only because it is wasteful, costly, and lacks any really good return on investment. It’s unfortunate (even tragic) that human primates are such greedy fuckwits.
…I’m cranky over this shit, but there’s nothing much I can do about it beyond not being that, myself…
I’m back to the routine of work. It’s a Monday, and the day begins well in this corner of the world. Ordinary. But… I’m not oblivious to the goings on elsewhere. The pointless violent bullshit mayhem and nonsense going on elsewhere taints my pleasant morning and seeps into my awareness. I sigh again. My headache is manageable. My back pain isn’t noteworthy. The day is neither too hot nor too chilly. It’s not raining. There are no bombs dropping, here. Still, I’m cross about this shit, and I feel my chaos and damage loitering in the background. I was once a soldier on a battlefield. Another sigh. I don’t feel free to cry over it; I’ve got a week of work ahead of me, and only three days to do it. Busy life. Errands. Housekeeping. Making meals to feed my family. Tending my garden in spite of the fucking deer eating my damned roses (again). Putting away laundry. Catching up on work email. Staying on top of my task list and doing my damnedest not to forgot some important thing or another. It’s much. Right now it feels like “too much” and I am on the edge of fury – not because there’s anything wrong here, I just feel the weight of the world and my concerns about global conflict keep trying to spin up, causing my anxiety to flare up as latent anger.
I breathe, exhale, and relax – let all that go by an act of pure will, and try to begin again. I repeat this several times. It’s seems clear I’ll be having to work at managing this for awhile, since the asshats in Washington DC can’t seem to behave as rational adults. Fucking hell. War? Still? Really? I keep thinking we have what it takes to be better than this, then I remember the assorted bullies, grifters, and morons we’ve elected (time and again, honestly) – we have a long way to go. Stupid is just every-fucking-where. I’m so over it.
…But… I’m angry about it, not sad, not demoralized, not in a state of despair. I feel bitter. Cynical. Disappointed in humanity. Annoyed by greedy billionaires and politicians. Frustrated by our Dunning-Krueger government. And? It’s not something I can “fix” through some specific individual act. Hell, I can’t even prevent other seemingly intelligent people from supporting this craptacular boatload of bullshit. It’s all very irritating – and I am irritable as a result.
Breathe.
Exhale.
Relax.
Begin again. Don’t take anything personally. Do your own best. Practice non-attachment. Results may vary. We become what we practice. There are verbs involved.
I sip my coffee and let it go. Again. The clock is ticking. We could do better. I can at least do better myself through my own actions and choices. That’s going to have to be enough to get by on, maybe for awhile. I’m not telling you what to do or how to think, or even making suggestions. I’m just sitting with my thoughts on a Monday morning, annoyed with what a shit show the world happens to be presently, and practicing some self-soothing, as much as I reasonably can, and hoping that maybe it helps me get over my irritable mood. There’s really nothing going on right here, now, that would lead me to be so fucking cranky. I can do better.
So, I do. Again. Breathe, exhale, relax. Let it go. Repeat as needed.
The sun rose red on this new day. I don’t know that it means anything, but it was quite a spectacular sight as I drove in to the office. It’s a new day. A new opportunity to be the person I most want to be. I’ll have to keep practicing.
The morning sky is a featureless homogeneous soft gray. It rained during the night, and feels like it might rain again today at some point. My walk was quiet, and I spent the time mostly in my own head. I’ve got my own opinions about world events, and I know you have yours. No doubt we each think we’re right (or at least justified) about the opinions we hold. The smarter we each actually are, the more likely we’re also aware of how wrong we could be, or sensitive to how nuanced circumstances truly are.
Being human is funny that way; we’re each having our own experience. Each walking our own path. Each of us making the journey on our own terms, except where we’ve yielded our decision making power to some Other. We’ve got our own opinions, formed and informed by our own experiences, and our own circumstances, colored by our individual pattern of biases, assumptions, and superstitions. We’ve got our own dreams, our own goals, our own disappointments and inner demons. We are individuals capable of critical thinking, when we choose to think critically (a choice which is quite separate from the ability). We create the world we live in directly through our choices and our actions. We are, as a species, uniquely creative and incredibly intelligent, while also being willfully stupid and terribly destructive. The scale of our ability to destroy is likely to be our undoing; we lack the wisdom to be cautious and to approach threats to our survival with care. A large portion of the whole of humanity is thoroughly committed to profit and personal gain even at the cost of humanity’s demise. Weird.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. Warfare is stupid and pointlessly destructive. That’s my opinion. We could do better.
I sit with my thoughts and my opinions at the edge of this meadow, wishing human beings weren’t so completely shortsighted and criminally greedy. I sigh and try again to let that go. Fretting over things I can’t change about the decision making and opinions of other people is just about as pointless as things get. I definitely have better things to do with my time. Strange that people so eager to make war don’t seem aware that they could choose peace instead.
I sit awhile wondering how it is we have not yet overcome the most basic flaws in our character as human primates and wonder why it is so many of us are so greedy for arbitrary representations of wealth. I hear the traffic in the distance. It’s a quiet morning, here. No bombs falling here. No drone attacks. No artillery fire. No landmines in these meadows. No trenches. No destruction. Americans tend to be some very NIMBY motherfuckers about such things; we fling our munitions at targets elsewhere in the world, and very few Americans have stared directly into the face of the God of War. To do so would force us to confront the cruelty, waste, and injustice of war, and to reckon with the body count. It is my opinion that most people who understand war and the cost in wasted resources and lost lives don’t so easily choose to inflict it on others. What do I even know about it, beyond my own experience, though? Maybe nothing.
I have seen war, up close and personal. I’d rather not go there again. Nothing is worth paying that price. Nothing. Humanity could do better. We make terrible choices.
It’s been a lovely week off. Now the weekend begins to end and the world is waiting. What next? Where does this path lead? Each moment is a blank page – what story will you write? What choices will you make? How will you (or I) make the world a better place for every creature who makes this muddy rock hurtling through space their home? We could… There are verbs involved, and our results will vary. I promise you one thing; war is not the way.
I sigh to myself. You can lead a human being to knowledge but you cannot make them think.
I get to my feet and look down the trail. Moments are fleeting. It’s a good time to begin again. I’ll do my best to live well, to embrace joy, and encourage others, and to refrain from acts of destruction. I can, if nothing else, live my values authentically and avoid violence. I may not change the world for the better in any obvious way, but I can surely avoid making shit worse.
I'm looking for a SGA/Ncis crossover where Tony leaves NCIS and joins the SGA group while putting his Doctorettes to use.
It was called Making It Up as We Go Along by Nikitariddick and the only link i've been able to find is deleted.
thanks!
wolfe
It’s been lovely having a bit of a vacation. The clock keeps ticking. The wheel keeps turning. Eventually every pleasant vacation drops us off at the starting point to begin living life in “the usual way” (more or less). I’m not unhappy with that. The power of taking a break comes from the way (and amount) it deviates from the day-to-day. (This is why a “stay-cation” can still be a wonderful interlude that refreshes and recharges us.)
A new beginning, a restart, a chance to set off on the journey with new perspective is one of the things I value each time I take a vacation (or even a break, or after a long weekend). If I’ve learned something new about myself, I take advantage of that new understanding in some way. If I’ve used the time to build a new habit or make a lifestyle change, I carry it forward into my everyday living. Practical. This approach can be so effective that I’ve even taken time off specifically to begin or end some behavior in order to focus on that change before resuming routine living, in order to “make it stick” more effectively.
I finish this morning’s walk just as the rain begins spattering the windshield. Of course it’s raining. I’m not even surprised. I felt it coming.
My arthritis has been griefing me all week. The amount of pain I’m in nearly every day is just fucking stupid, and unreasonable, and difficult to manage, and seems wholly “unfair”, and I mostly just don’t even complain about it or bring it up beyond the occasional mention (in my lived actual life), though I mention it relatively frequently here. It’s mostly pointless to say anything much about it. There’s nothing much anyone can do about it, and I’d rather not be defined by my pain or allow it to dictate the boundaries of my experience. Besides, everyone hurts sometimes, and we can only ever really understand our own pain. It’s truly difficult to understand the magnitude of someone else’s pain, and far too easy to dismiss it as being somehow less than our own. I’d rather not discuss it or argue the point; it’s not a competition. I think it sucks to be in pain, and I’m often cross about it while trying my best not to make it anyone else’s problem (especially my Traveling Partner); we’ve all got our own pain to deal with. If you’re in pain, I’m sorry to hear it, and I wish that it were in my power to ease your suffering.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. The rainy weather pretty reliably means more arthritis pain. I smile to myself, somewhat mirthlessly. I enjoy the rain so much! The spectacular mismatch between my delight in rainy days and the pain I’m in on rainy days is not lost on me. If I’m lucky, my delight and my joy in life may distract me from my pain for some little while.
Are you in pain? I get it. Please take care of yourself. Take it easy when you can (and when you must), and set healthy boundaries. Pain doesn’t have to become your whole world – you can choose differently (often)(sometimes). Your results may vary.
Yesterday was a nice finish to my vacation days, although a storm blowing in from the sea ultimately chased me back to the car and got me headed home a little earlier than I’d planned. It was still quite a lovely day. It has been a supremely relaxing and restful week. I needed that more than I knew.
I didn’t mind the storm. Like change, the weather simply is, and it’s not to be argued with. lol It was too blustery for plein air painting, and I didn’t really mind. I adapted to the conditions (easier than trying to argue with the weather). I enjoyed walking on the beach and exploring the tide pools. I took pictures of the rocks and waves and the storm moving in. I enjoyed returning home to see that a rose I had planted the year after we moved in had finally bloomed. (She took her sweet damned time with that, but she’s beautiful, and worth the wait.) The hollyhocks are blooming too, but colossal, and clearly “in the wrong spot” as planted. As with any garden, I learn with the seasons, and make changes based on what I learn along the way. (It’s a metaphor.)
So… Here I am. Now. Being. Listening to the rain fall, and reflecting on the moment. My tinnitus is louder than the rain, but my pain is managed. Good enough. I’ve got things to do, and it’s time to begin again.
My last “proper day of vacation” began with some sleeping in – what a delightful luxury! I dressed and slipped out of the house without waking my Traveling Partner (as far as I know). I decided, yesterday, that today I’d make the drive to the coast and head down to Fogarty Creek, which has easy access to a small private feeling beach enclosed by steep rocky hillsides. The Oregon Coast Trail passes through there.
… Stormy clouds followed me, and I figured it might rain at some point, but I drove on, unconcerned, enjoying the absence of traffic (not another car on the road going my way, at all)…
I parked with my coffee at a favorite spot with a great view of the ocean. The tide is coming in, and in a few more minutes it’ll be high tide, according to the tide table, but not the highest high tide today. That’ll be later, shortly before sundown, and long after I’ve returned home.
The first rain drops tap the windshield gently, and then it’s just straight up raining. Last time I made Fogarty Creek my destination, it also rained (a drenching deluge blown sideways by fierce storm winds). Today I can see breaks in the storm gray clouds overhead, so perhaps the rain will pass quickly. No matter. I actually don’t care much about the weather today, I’m enjoying my time (and my coffee) anyway. I sit watching a man on the beach persisting in trying to fly his kite in spite of the rain.
The drive over to the coast was beautiful. The roadside slopes and ditches were in bloom with plentiful pink foxgloves and purple vetch, and blackberry brambles covered in clouds of pretty white flowers. The air smelled fresh and sweet. No traffic at all was a nice treat. No traffic = no stress. It was fun.
…So this is 62? So far so good…
I sip my coffee, sitting contentedly with my thoughts on a rainy morning, listening to the raindrops on the roof of the car. I’m enjoying the pleasant relaxed vibe of having nothing specific to do and nowhere I need to be. I savor the moment, because this too will pass; moments are fleeting, and a mortal lifetime is brief. It’s enough to enjoy the moment as it is. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think of my Traveling Partner and hope he has a lovely day relaxing or working, whatever suits him most.
I sigh to myself as the rain slows to a few random drops. Soon enough, I’ll finish the drive. There’s no rush, and the journey is the destination. It hardly matters whether I drive further down the coast or sit contentedly right here. What matters most is simply to enjoy the moment…
…Then begin again.
Have you ever thought about how few people leave any sort of lasting mark on the world, or the lives of others in an individual mortal lifetime? Humanity’s impact on the planet, other life forms, and each other, generally, is pretty obvious (and pretty reliably negative, which is unfortunate), but as individual human beings, by far the vast majority of us will pass through these mortal lives almost unnoticed, and leave no lasting legacy of the life we lived. Maybe, if we’ve worked hard and been quite fortunate, we’ll leave something of value behind, in cash or assets, that our heirs may or may not appreciate in the way that we hoped. Most of us will live, die, and be forgotten.
… That’s a huge downer, isn’t it? My own experiences of “existential dread” most commonly center on this awareness that it’s quite likely I’ll be forgotten once I’m gone…
The closest thing we human beings have that approximates immortality is to have some sort of lasting legacy that endures beyond our limited, all too brief, human lifetime. The written works of writers, philosophers, historians, and storytellers of all sorts may survive thousands of years. The paintings, drawings, and sculptures of visual artists working in durable media may survive many lifetimes beyond the death of the artist who made them. More modern art forms have yet to prove themselves, but recorded music, and film, endures – as long as the means to view them survives. Architects design buildings and crews of builders, engineers, and tradespeople work to bring them into being – where these survive, a name may survive with them, but only one (or few) of many.
I fret about what my own legacy may be, when this brief mortal life ends. Will my art survive? Will it be known, even to some few, or lost over time due to lack of appeal or discarded as lacking value? Will my small but thoughtfully selected porcelain collection become treasured by someone else, or be sold piecemeal as part of clearing out the clutter I left behind? What about my books? My written work? The contents of my email? Will the things that were important to me have lasting importance for anyone else? Will I be remembered? If I am, what will I be remembered for? That seems like an important question, although considering the likelihood that I’ll simply be among the vast forgotten multitudes as soon as I’m gone, the seeming importance of the question may be an illusion.
I walked down the trail this morning thinking about legacy and mortality, and meaning and purpose, and wondering again “what we’re here for”. How long after I’m gone will my beloved say my name with longing and love, before his memory begins to fade? Once he’s gone, what then? Who will continue to “say my name” and cling to their memories of me?
I’m not thinking about these things in a sorrowful way, just contemplating what it takes to leave behind an enduring legacy of love and high regard? I am asking myself what I hope to be remembered for? I have come to understand that it isn’t enough simply to be remembered. Some pretty terrible human beings are remembered through history, and I have no interest in being one of those. It’s more complicated than simply being remembered, isn’t it? Hitler is remembered. Andrew Jackson is remembered. Jack the Ripper is remembered. Saddam Hussein is remembered. No doubt Trump will be remembered. These people are not remembered for anything good they did. Their legacy is of trauma and crime, and how terrible human beings can treat other human beings. Their names evoke cautionary admonishments and document terrible deeds. There are worthier things to be known for.
What do you want to be known for? Are you even doing the things that have that potential?
I walked and thought. Later I’ll have coffee with a friend, run a couple errands, get the oil changed in my car, and return home to my Traveling Partner’s love. None of that holds any particular potential to leave a lasting “legacy”. These are moments in one human life. Perhaps it is enough to simply live authentically, and to love well, and treat people with kindness and consideration?
I watch the leaves of trees quaking gently in the morning breeze, and enjoy the feeling of sunshine on my back. It’s a lovely morning, and perhaps the best possible choice is to embrace this moment, savor it, and live my life as it is? Maybe it isn’t for us to decide what our legacy could, or may, be at all? I suppose it is eventually in the hands (minds) of others, regardless what we may do to influence or guide that outcome. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I keep walking. I can wonder, but I can’t know – funny to recognize and acknowledge that with such ease. The question of “legacy” now seems potentially an obstacle. A bit of misdirection. Perhaps it is far more important simply to become the person I most want to be, living well, loving deeply, and present, here, now?
I sigh and smile. I hear the clock ticking. I keep on walking. Regardless whether I am remembered or forgotten, I am enjoying this life, and savoring the many little joys in it. Each moment is uniquely its own experience, whether anyone else remembers or not; I’m here, now, living these moments. It’s enough, isn’t it? I think about it awhile longer. Soon, I’ll begin again, grateful for the chance, and the moments.
Page Summary
![[syndicated profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/feed.png)
chaosanddamage_feed : Time Travel [+0] - xkcd_feed : Dehumidifier [+2]
- chaosanddamage_feed : Summer Sunshine [+0]
- sga_storyfinders_feed : 'Catch Me As I Fall' by codemonkey???? [+0]
- chaosanddamage_feed : What We Choose Matters [+0]
- xkcd_feed : Laser Danger [+6]
- chaosanddamage_feed : Expectations? Meet Reality. [+0]
- chaosanddamage_feed : Fighting Anxiety With Non-Attachment [+0]
- xkcd_feed : Weather Balloons [+0]
- chaosanddamage_feed : What Will You Do With The Moment You’ve Got? [+0]
- xkcd_feed : Farads [+8]
- chaosanddamage_feed : AI Slop Everywhere (but not here) [+0]
- sga_storyfinders_feed : 2 Stories — John is still blue & John and Rodney are stranded for years... [+0]
- chaosanddamage_feed : Neutrality Isn’t Neutral [+0]
- chaosanddamage_feed : I Have Mine, You Have Yours [+0]
- sga_storyfinders_feed : LF An SGA/Ncis crossover [+0]
- chaosanddamage_feed : Living Life [+0]
- xkcd_feed : Interoperability [+8]
- chaosanddamage_feed : And Then It Begins To Rain [+0]
- chaosanddamage_feed : Legacy [+0]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chasethestars