I‘ve apparently been behind the curve lately. The Amazon Dash button was released, and I just found out about it last week. Everyone I spoke to had heard about it, so I have no idea how it had passed me by.
You’ll notice a comic with a Bukowski quote running along the side of this article. I read it once, long ago, before I knew what a Bukowski was or that he had such a stunning reputation for being an asshole.
In the great Internet tradition of being an asshole to an asshole, I’m going to pick on Bukowski a bit. But only a bit, I promise.
Our society spends a lot of time in a culture where we speak to each other silently. The difference between verbal and nonverbal communication has long been researched, but many studies still focus on face-to-face conversation. In the silent communication of IM, email, and texting, nonverbal cues are simply not present.
During a gchat conversation with my lovely boyfriend, I stumbled upon this point. I wanted to share it because I think it’s quite nice.
I often wrestle with the more spiritual aspects of reality. It causes me great internal frustration to see my friends and society at large discount spirituality in favor of reductionism.
The whole Internet seems to be obsessed with Pokémon Go. While I am loath to weigh in on this matter myself, I think it’s important to make a few notes of the phenomenon while it’s still happening. I know you’ve all been *anxiously* awaiting my thoughts, so without further ado, here they are.
The mysteries were piling up. My car’s gas had barely moved even though I used it daily, and I noticed that my electricity kept humming on smoothly with no sign of slowing. Even the food in the fridge seemed to stay fresh and ripe.
This may just be me, but I think the Europeans have it right when it comes to cemeteries. I’m generally against the whole, “taking up valuable land for dead people” idea, but I live my life pretty non-judgementally, and burial rites are one of the first pillars of civilization, so I guess I can’t really knock it too hard.
My junior year of college, I wrote a sermon to give my church. It was a lovely little church called Lakeshore Baptist church, although they weren’t affiliated with the main Baptist association. The church was wonderful – a female pastor, progressive ideas towards ministry, and a fundamental belief in doubt being part of faith.
I feel a love in my heart that, at its strongest and its most solid, doesn’t have any specific object to which it’s attached. I can express my love for my wife, but I can also express a very similar love, if not the same love, for you, who I have barely met, and say I feel a connection to you and feel a love for you, in some way, which is great, because right now my wife is 500 miles away from here. She’s visiting her family in Idaho and I’m in Philadelphia, and it’d be a real bummer if all my love were wrapped up in her, all my sense of being completed with a relationship was tied to being physically with her.
But when I have this sense of what Rumi calls a love with no object, then it just sits peacefully inside my heart, and then whatever I come in contact with – whether that’s another human being, if it’s a squirrel, if it’s my wife, my God, if it’s the leaves on the tree that I’m touching right now – it just feels peaceful and stable and kind of indestructible.