Sunspots (https://sunspots.cornellsun.com/tag/thoughts/)
So, if time is really money, this hangs on the notion that time must indeed be real. Which then, arguably, hangs on the notion that money is inherently real as well. If money is indeed real, then money has the ability to function as an authentic, tangible, and pragmatic function to our overall well being. 4:08 am and I am contemplating these socially constructed elements that are seemingly the epoch of human existence. Time.
One summer, I gutted the prickly bush that sat on the side of my driveway. I was much younger, but I can’t exactly remember when it happened. The bush sprawled out and a handful of stalks reached out to the sky and then curved back towards the driveway. The stalks formed bent bridges between a vibrant, green forest and the dirty blue of the asphalt.
Every time I pursued adventure, I had with me a pair of red metal shears. They were small enough to fit in my hand and be pressed together, but the blades were thick and wide.
Buzzfeed, or some similar listicle oracle, recently informed me oh-so-helpfully of the top seventeen most romantic places to visit (I assume they meant with a partner and not just by yourself). Which, of course, got me thinking – what makes a place romantic? I guess this is where we have to admit that romantic means something different for everyone. So dozens of people might call Ithaca’s gorges romantic, but to one person that might mean, “Damn, these gorges really make me wanna bang anything that moves,” and to another, “Golly doesn’t this gorge just make me want to stare at the moon and talk about our spirit animals,” and to yet another person, “This would be a postcard-perfect place to begin an attempt to beat the 50% odds of divorce.” And yet, most people can agree that scenic vistas of nature are romantic, similar to cute or expensive restaurants or places that are quiet and private. Then, you have misattribution of arousal – a term used in psychology – which is actually pretty trippy.
Every day, and every day for the last couple billions of the years, the sun has risen in the east and set in the west. Bright rays of light have shone over the horizon, reaching into dark chasms and turning earth, dark and damp from the night, into warmth and soft soil. I guess we should trust the process. I guess we should let the sun rise and fall. We should sit on the shore, feet plunged into grainy bits of sand and watching the waves.