Here and Now whimsy

Let us start with here and the now. In the corner of this room
looking out. Ahhh.. perspective.. see how the wall, ceiling and floor
angles start from some periphery of vision and converge.. enclosing
this space.. separating it from the audible outside.
There is something comforting to our modern minds about angles that
correspond.. it denotes blatantly man made structures.. some
recognisably human order (giving a false feeling of continuity) imposed
on a chaotically visibly changing natural world. Furniture strewn
around the room.. hard tables.. chairs.. soft carpets and arm chairs..
a window with plant letting the light in . And me sat at this table in
the corner describing all this on my lap top computer.

Suddenly I am in love with all the humans (thousands) that toiled and
sweated in the creating of my world.. the things around me. Let me
Explain.. without these people the chair that I sit on.. the clothes I
wear.. the breakfast I had earlier.. the room I am in.. the furniture..
this computer lap top.. all these things would not be here. All these
forms wrested from thought and crafted with hands on matter.. all the
fruit of some mysterious energy (probably love in some form or other)
that impelled them to be, to do, to make.. and now their works envelope
my world.. such a daily part of my existence that I hardly ever give
thought to it.. But tis true: These things and they are my world, my
space, my time.. for evermore? recorded by god, in his giant video
recorder in the sky. One day, when he hits the 'Play' Button it will
all be there.. exactly as it is now.

There is logic to materialism.. Surround yourself with things that you
love? things crafted from love, carry the love with them.. (You CAN
detect it.. just call it beauty, art, good design etc). They become a
part of your story too. I am a confirmed materialist. Matter is spirits
canvass.

So shrink back my torchlight focus back to my corner.. stick my hand
out.. there..
This recognisable lump of me now stretching away.. and look.. even
responsive to these instructions that I dish out.. wiggle fingers..
wave... funny to contrast the organically pliable skin, hair, bone
material with the rest of the room.. suddenly think that the plant in
the windowsill is my nearest cousin here.. I want to jump on the
windowsill and hug it.. share its light sucking, soil juice slurping,
its chlorophyll making green pleasures.. (but don't want the neigbours
calling the cops.. again). Retreat hand. This is easy.. there is some
pleasure to be had in occupying space and stretching into unoccupied
space.. it is a talent most of us have.. call it movement.. and just to
demonstrate this truism (to myself) I am now dancing and twirling
around the room.. arms hellicoptering..

..and back to the corner. Now sat here clicking these words into this
angular machine.. the press of the keys smooth and responsive.. and I
wonder what it would be like to push the keys only once and for them to
remain flat.. what could I say if I could use each alphabet letter only
once?.. qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm..

Texture.. feel the milky choc brown t shirt on my dark choc skin..
pause and scratch..
Thump the table.. listen out to the sounds from the street.. clangering
trucks and whooshing car sounds.. occasional snatches of dislocated
voices.. and think.. is this what it means to be in the here and now..
moving around this 3 dimensional space.. touching.. feeling.. looking,
tasting and delighting off this richly textured space??

Back to the Now.. no physical pain.. no body yearning and calling out
for sustenance.. Is that not a wonder?.. all systems go.. I could just
die with gratitude when I think of others.

I am happy to exist.. to take joy from this existence.. but know that
existing is not enough. I have to create.. not in the easy way by just
moving in this space? but by visualising some sort of objective.. some
thing some place.. create some complex software edifice within the
enclosed space of my skull.. then pursue some sort of strategy that
will get me there, there are bills to pay after all.

I have to make and partake in stories? but first I need a love.. to
propel me to do so.