That Which Is Not

My dear friends, I fear I have been away from you for too long. I am pleased to see that some people have continued to check my blog for new updates, and I apologize that I have been too busy to bring them to you. I will spare you the details of my life since the last post I published, though the passing of my grandfather merits direct mention. He was of the oldest kind of nobility: not that which comes from love of wealth, but a wealth of love. And no better tribute to him could have been paid than the hundreds of people who gathered to say silent farewell and share remembrances. His mortal form left us in early August and sometimes I still have to remind myself that he is gone.

But enough of sad tidings. The matter that has occurred to me to discuss with you all this evening is, perhaps ironically, directly related to my having been gone for so long.

I wish I had a tablet. Or a smartphone. Something I could use to connect myself to the Internet from any point at any time. I do not ask for such things because I have some sociopathic need to acquire the newest and best technology, or because I want to be able to tell the world about every time I sneeze. I wish I had the ability to stop and write a post whenever and wherever I have those somewhat obnoxious flashes of insight that inspire us to question our existence and the daily routine.

We all have those moments: a brilliant flash of philosophic understanding or clairvoyance that just fizzes away into nothing because no one was around to share it with and we forgot to write it down or said “Oh, I’ll get to that later,” and later never came or was taken up by other tasks. ¬†and while thinking of some of those moments I myself have had in the last two months, I began to wonder about how often that happens to other people and how many potentially Earth-shattering ideas have simply…vanished because¬†no one ever bothered or was given time and forum to speak them aloud or write them down.

In order to slow this Entropy of Ideas, I encourage you to take time, especially in the coming days, to notice the ghosts. I don’t necessarily mean the shades of persons past, although I know some of you will notice them whether you want to or not. I mean the people we pass by every day and barely ever speak to. The quiet ones in the corner whose eyes are burning with percipience but who never speak because the ignorant masses won’t shut the hell up. (And suddenly, I have a new personal understanding of Kosh when he said “Listen to the music, not the song.”)

I have a terrible time ending posts, because no idea is truly finished. I hope what I said makes some manner of sense and that someone will pursue where these ideas can go. Talk to the Quiet Ones, and share Ideas, or thoughts will be lost forever; and we simply cannot afford to stop thinking.

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