Most folks will say “look up! at that little twinkling star”,
& maybe rattle numbers off – “it’s really, REALLY far!”
suppose it’s true, cosmos are large, perhaps they’re kinda big
but look down at your bag of skin and let your daydreams dig
Seven billion people roam our “vast” tiny Earth
But seven billion billion billion atoms teem within one’s girth
They talk and play and scream and die as we all are right now
They love and hate and question fate and probably tip cows
All the while praying watching, wondering what they are
Colossal chemists peering in from microscopes afar
So don’t feel too small or look to stars to find some spacious wealth
The vastness of a universe is really in yourself
Sitting on campus by the rock garden outside of Olin-Rice. A couple has a professional photographer taking pictures of them with their puppy – or, on closer inspection, perhaps just a tiny little dog. It’s interesting to watch.
There is a bench just left to the stairs leading up to Olin-Rice’s north-facing door. Theyve spent a few moments over there as the sun passes in and out of clouds, going back and forth between blurry and broily. It’s humid. The dog’s tongue is visible from here
They are climbing down the small slanted bit of grass between the sidewalk and the edge of the building. The basement windows of Olin-Rice overlook a meager 1 or 2 feet of rocks followed by a wall of grass – from the sidewalk, you have to peer down to see that the windows do indeed have offices inside of them. The dog-couple and dog-couple-photographer are walking along this largely unappreciated stone track, using the shade to their advantage. Maybe the photographer’s wide-brimmed hat is, well, to aid in their photography? I’m not sure.
As for me – 1/2way through a YouTube video on the pharmacology of lamotrigene. I’ve watched it before but this morning when I was making breakfast didn’t feel like I had properly memorized its contents, so here I am again. It’s downloaded on a flash drive so that I can keep an eye on it. sodium-gated ion channels!
was droning today at @Shaw field and had two run-ins (fly-ins?) with cranes.
the first run-in (fly-in?): a large construction project is taking place on campus. amidst that building-site is a large crane that soars upwards with yellowish branches and breathes onto the shoulders of the janet wallace fine arts center. its arm can swing over jwall and neill hall so it is pretty imposing and you can feel it on the edges of your arms and the back of your head when you walk among or in those buildings. i flew the drone up and around the insides of the crane successfully a few times – that was intentional and was ok
the second run-in fly-in?): this one was not intentional and not ok. as i was droning up above shaw field a very very very very large bird flew past overhead – very far overhead. it had huge huge huge huge wings and long long long long legs dragging behind. Seemed like a crane even though (for no real reason) the word albatross kept shooting through my head. The drone was on its way up with this big fella came into view and though I wouldn’t call it a near-collision, I def invaded this bird’s airspace. It banked right with some pained, large, slow wing-flaps and my friend remarked that he could see the light through its wings, and that this bird seemed pretty large. I brought the drone down
So, to the metal crane – thanks for the giggles
to the flying crane – sorry 😦
[side note – videos were not filmed today]
Then a mason came forth and said, Speak to us of Houses. And the Prophet answered and said:
Build of your imaginings a bower in the wilderness ere you build a house within the city walls. For even as you have home-comings in your twilight, so has the wanderer in you, the ever distant and alone.
Your house is your larger body.
It grows in the sun and sleeps in the stillness of the night; and it is not dreamless. Does not your house dream? and dreaming, leave the city for grove or hill-top? Would that I could gather your houses into my hand, and like a sower scatter them in forest and meadow. Would the valleys were your streets, and the green paths your alleys, that you might seek one another through vineyards, and come with the fragrance of the earth in your garments.
But these things are not yet to be.
In their fear your forefathers gathered you too near together. And that fear shall endure a little longer. A little longer shall your city walls separate your hearths from your fields. And tell me, people of Orphalese, what have you in these houses? And what is it you guard with fastened doors? Have you peace, the quiet urge that reveals your power? Have you remembrances, the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind? Have you beauty, that leads the heart from things fashioned of wood and stone to the holy mountain? Tell me, have you these in your houses? Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house as a guest, and then becomes a host, and then a master?
Ay, and it becomes a tamer, and with hook and scourge makes puppets of your larger desires. Though its hands are silken, its heart is of iron. It lulls you to sleep only to stand by your bed and jeer at the dignity of the flesh. It makes mock of your sound senses, and lays them in thistledown like fragile vessels. Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral.
But you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed. Your house shall not be an anchor but a mast. It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound, but an eyelid that guards the eye. You shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors, nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling, nor fear to breathe lest walls should crack and fall down. You shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living. And though of magnificence and splendour, your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing. For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night.