Writing digest

 [I am experimenting with a daily writing digest. Here is today's entry.]

I grew up, saw the tree of life. It was the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Yet there is no good and there is no evil. And there is no God. But humans know evil and they know good. However so do other animals. Other animals just don’t mind being naked. There are animals who know shame. For example, dogs. If dogs can feel shame, so can other animals, they may simply not be able to express it to humans, nor would they want to.

So I grew up and I saw the world was something other than what was promised. I am still looking for the one that was promised. It’s not there. Suffering exists, and people die. So where can I find meaning? My mind wants to busy itself with antidotes. Death is the big problem. Therefore there must be a big answer. But there is no big answer. There are small answers. Being kind to each other, for example. 

And there is paying attention. Okay now I am getting drawn into an analysis of how to be. That is not what I need right now, nor do I believe it is strictly necessary. I caught myself, pausing, staring out the window, and searching for nuggets of significance to set down on the page. And then my thoughts grew turgid. They grow turgid now. I must be important and I must relay that which is important.

So continuing my brief life story, I grew up, then I became middle aged. At some point I will die. Right now I have too much gut fat, and I am listening to Pink Floyd’s album Animals. I am listening to the 2018 remaster which does have a lot of instruments that can be heard clearly compared to the original. I’ve been listening to this album non-stop for months. I don’t know what gives it such a satisfying strong hook. But I really love it. So anyway, continuing this story, I am listening to spacey guitar effects and a funky bass. Also, “ha ha, charade you are!” in harmony. What a beautiful song. It embodies angst, dissatisfaction, but also resolution. It is great.