There is no spoon.  

Sarcasmistress 47F
220 posts
7/14/2006 12:46 pm

Last Read:
7/15/2006 1:30 pm

There is no spoon.

Warning: The following post contains existentialist rambling that may or may not make any sort of coherent sense. Reader discertion is advised.

When I'm not busy making myself insane by imbuing trivialities in my life with tortured and menacing meaning, I realize that, in truth, nothing in my life has any meaning at all, aside from the meaning I place upon it.

People have basic needs that don't differ: food, shelter and love. That's it. We've managed, at least in this country, to generally provide two of of the three for everyone, although I pass no judgment on the quality of either. If those needs are *just* satisified, they retain their most basic meaning - necessities for survival. Once they are more than fully satisified, taken for granted, they lose that essential meaning and take on a new meaning we've ascribed to them -- from grains of wheat to dinner at Fogo, from a tent to a mansion on West Paces Ferry. Both meet the same need and perform the same function, but one has been imbued with a meaning and value far in excess of the other.

Every day I leave my house, drive the same path to my office, sit behind the same desk and do pretty much the same thing each day. It is highly unlikely that anything I accomplish from this desk will change the world. When I die, I will not be looking back and thinking, "Damn, I'm so glad I got that motion filed on time back in 1998.". What I *will* be looking back on, hopefully with great fondness and satisfaction, are my moments with my friends, family and people I love and have loved before. And yet, I spent the majority of my life in one box twice a day to sit in this box for 8 to 10 hours five days a week. And this is not *odd* -- in fact, almost *everyone* does this. Why, precisely? So we can get some of those green pieces of paper, which have become in and of themselves imbued with the meaning of "necessities." Seems rather screwed up, when you look at it in perspective.

My job is based entirely on a man-created fiction. Medicine, engineering, history, even the kid at McDonalds...all these jobs are based on something concrete, mathmatically definable, tangible. Law? Not so much. Basically, my job involves imposing a bunch of artificial rules on situations that arise within the framework of even more artificial rules to ultimately either get my client, or keep my client from losing, lots of green pieces of paper.

And yes, I do realize that I will be one of the first against the wall when the revolution comes.

I live in a box surrounded by other boxes of varying sizes. By going inside the box and closing the flap on the side, I delude myself into believing that I am "inside." In fact, I'm still outdoors -- I'm just in a box. I can't see the outdoors so I do not believe outdoors is the reality -- rather, it's my walls that are real, permanent, and the reality of things, not the trees that used to be where my walls are now...

There is much to be said for visualization, I suppose. Since things only have the meaning we assign to them, that leaves us pretty free to give them whatever meaning we want. My brain tends to interpret events in the most negative way possible. Really, all I have to do to make my life happier is decide that the events and people in my life mean happier things to me than I usually give them credit for. Reality is all inside your head, after all.

I mean, it's only a spoon if you say so.

We now return you to your regular linear programming.

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