Its been blistering cold recently, and it made me revisit myself and dig through some old journal entries and files I shove into the abyss of my digital folders.
I stumbled across a reading that I did of a short Ernest Hemingway piece that was mentioned by a friend of mine last summer. It was something meaningful to my friend and I was curious to investigate. What compelled me to read it out loud it and record it, I honestly don’t remember.
But I do know I go through spastic motions every winter regurgitating, recycling, and searching for threads that indicate to me some continuity of interest or ideas that stay with me without running away from my consciousness. Whether it is fulfilling, healthy or detrimental to me is a separate conclusion yet to be made. I am looking for ideas, motions, existential gut reactions to help strengthen whatever philosophy pertains to me. To be an outsider looking-in may be easier to describe a personality, but to be an insider looking-in is a minefield of denials, unwarranted chatter, whispers of dreams wanting attainment.
There is something there in that seemingly unconnected, disjointed world in my brain that I may sometimes dismiss as a nothing. Sometimes irrational or even rational fear is about ‘nothing in particular’, the inability to address the uncertainty itself. This piece for me explores that something in uncertainty. So I revisited it to hear myself do something about that nothing... it was the only thing I could think of to face this nothing head-on.