Piton, noun: a
peg or spike driven into a rock or crack to support a climber or a
rope.
I've
never actually climbed a mountain, and in truth have never had the
slightest interest in doing so. But if you've followed my blogs for
any length of time, I'm sure you've noticed that I occasionally like
to wax philosophical...or what passes for philosophical with me. This
is one of those times. And on a philosophical level, I look upon the
world as the sheer face of a mountain wrapped in a thick fog, and I
have spent every day of my life struggling to climb it. Words are the
pitons I use to try to to anchor myself to it in an effort to
comprehend what I'm doing, where I'm going, and to give my life
meaning to myself if no one else.
All
this was prompted by trying to thinking of a subject for my first
regular blog since returning from my recent trip. As so often happens
when I try to think of something, an avalanche of thoughts sweep down
the mountainside, threatening to sent me plummeting into total
confusion. I found myself grasping at the pitons associated with my
all-time favorite topics, my own life and experiences, which I
justify with the logic that I am hardly qualified to talk about
anyone else's.
And
I realized that of all the myriads of sensations washing back and
forth through every human's life, the single most predominant
sensations of mine are, and have always been, those of alienation and
being lost. Of having no idea of where I am in the overall scheme of
things—if there is, indeed a scheme of things—of how I really
managed to get here, of what is expected of me, and of why I am so
eternally confused. Everyone else seems to climb their individual and
seemingly far less steep mountains with relative ease, and without
worrying themselves excessively about what pitons they use in their
climb. I know this isn't exactly true, and that everyone faces their
own challenges as they climb their own mountain in their own way. But
again, since I only have my own perceptions to guide me, I have to
rely on them.
My
life has always been, to me, an endless string of unanswered
questions, of utterly failing to comprehend the actions of
others...especially those whose entire purpose in living seems to be
to take advantage of the weaknesses of others and to spread hatred,
misery, and mistrust. Honor, compromise, respect, and common courtesy
are obviously unknown concepts to them, and their number, sadly, is
not only legion but apparently growing rapidly.
It
takes a lot of concentration and willpower to keep the sense of
hopelessness with which we are bombarded daily on TV, magazines,
newspapers, and on the streets themselves from becoming totally
overwhelming. It's not easy to observe our fellow humans routinely
behaving shamefully, doing the most egregious things to others with
utter impunity and with no real concern about having to pay for their
actions. There is probably some small comfort for those with strong
religious beliefs to say “Oh, they'll burn in hell,” and at times
I do wish I could share their conviction in an afterlife. But I
can't. When these loathsome creatures die, the only thing their death
accomplishes is to remove them from the world.
That
humans tend to be naturally optimistic is evinced by the simple fact
of wondering why we assume that life should be anything other than
what it is...a constant struggle...and why it bothers us that it is.
Being human involves more than Mark Twain's clever observation that
“Man is the only animal that blushes...or needs to.” We also are
apparently the only species to be aware of moral issues. Apparently
only man lives not only on the physical level of all other living
creatures, but on a mental one as well.
Awareness
of one's self and one's surroundings is probably universal in all
creatures with other than the most rudimentary of brains. And because
Man is assumedly the most aware of all creatures, he is the most
plagued by question.
And
what of pitons, which assumedly was the subject of this blog? Well,
glance down through the fog: we're standing on them.
Dorien's
blogs are posted by 10 a.m. Central time every Monday and Thursday.
Please take a moment to visit his website (http://www.doriengrey.com)
and, if you enjoy these blogs, you might want to check out Short
Circuits: a Life in Blogs (http://bit.ly/m8CSO1),
which is also available as an audiobook
(http://www.audible.com/pd/ref=sr_1_1?asin=B00DJAJYCS&qid=1372629062&sr=1-1).
1 comment:
You do realize if you'd walked around to the left of the mountain that there's a lift that will take you partway up? It's there where you may then catch an escalator the rest of the way.
But I suspect we climb because the mountain is there. We cannot go through it, so we therefore must scale it. Ever wonder what's at the top?
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