Thursday, March 6, 2014

Old Toys And The Scaling of Realities

The Tao of Naivety

After thinking about Dia and Michaels suggestion not to walk away from the fray but to reformulate this blogging exercise with my morning coffee, I decided to leave the stereotypes of para-normality behind me and simply look and report on what I see in a shared journey through life.

A good way to begin is a recognition with the Tao of naivete, which I suspect is a eternal return, cyclic, digestive and a recognition of a childhood that has nothing to do with the scaling of age.

The essence of spirit rather than gathering up moss and debating it's nature that becomes a debilitating exercise in dragging along the baggage of twice told tales.

Reality as a contraption, the unintended parody of hidden clockworks and sprung animation is perhaps folded onto the stage craft of a magician, who holds bouquets of roses up his sleeve. The exotica of the migratory sideshows that hint at cracks, twists and turns, and the trap doors of what we consider to be the stereotyped physicality of the visible world. The bearded lady, the wolf boy, the three headed snake all hint that there are exceptions to the repetition and predictability that clings to the navigational signposts of an normalcy that is a nostalgia, a wistfulness for an eternity undisturbed by darkness.

Between death and birth, there is play, the creative toying with what all this represents and how it is represented and how we learn and deconstruct, rearrange conceptual modeling inasmuch as between the contraptions, the magician, the sideshows and the yearning for eternity comes a developmental thread in play.

The physicists,the alchemist, the shaman and the tool kit, whether it is mathematics, elixirs or metaphysical rituals are an expression of play within a naive sense of reality all want to penetrate in order to see the hidden gears, the levers and the springs that animate this stagecraft that encompasses both the anomalous and the prosaic. What would be the name, the term for this activity or a way to express a complex reaction to the transience of living?

It may be it is the alpha and omega within a cabinet of effect, playing with toys.

Within all of this we follow an arc of an arrow creating what may be and all the gravitas we can muster returns to childhood. Fascination, the enthrallment of movement, the living illustrations of the hidden, the deeply buried..and for the child, this is an initiation and for those of my age, this is a nostalgia and recognition that our most cogent and strongly felt suspicions are patently simplistic, naive and perhaps a detour on the way to what is yet to be revealed.

 Atop the bridging of this passage, we see toys as toys..and unafraid of losing one's sophistication, intellectualism, intelligence quota...and perhaps in this wonder returns after a prolonged exile.


  1. Hmmm... I didn't think you'd need much persuasion. ;-)

    Re: "What would be the name, the term for this activity or a way to express a complex reaction to the transience of living?"

    Well, Bruce, physicists, alchemists, and shamans aside, I think the answer quite possibly would be : existentialism... the Zen of every day life and actual experience, and the unpremeditated poetry which accompanies it. A little like these past posts of yours:

    I think Michael is right... this "transit" seems to keep pulling you into the unknown and grappling with maddening issues that have no resolution. Toy trains sound like just the ticket for a more pleasurable ride. ;-)

  2. Dia
    The old man stretches the stiffness out of his limbs and gets out of bed. The garage door slowly opens and with some difficulty eases into a camp chair. The sun rises over the neighborhood and he reaches for the wrinkled pack of cigarettes. Call it a morning meditation. He fears neither heaven or hell but he wishes it was that simple a proposition.
    Its a gift, life as a wondrous conundrum that he neither believes or disbelieves but he also knows that might be forgiven under the present circumstances.

    1. So, what happens after the crumpled pack of cigarettes? That's what I want to know. And therein lies the ticket! :-)

  3. Wondrous conundrum...a marvelous enigma that both challenges and soothes me in my ride on this toy train. You and I may be old my friend but not too old to "wonder while we can still wander" and I continue to wonder each day.

    1. 2 cents: Not "old" - greater. Aged is an advanced state. Think: diamond... and pearl. :-)

  4. Or, as the Firesign Theater once said, "We're all bozos on this bus."

    Of course, they also famously said, "Everything you know is wrong," and I know they didn't mean precisely that, but more a comedic Zen koan.

    After all, only most of the things I think or know are wrong. Not all of them. Heh! 8^}