Just Too Late

Buzzard
Buzzard

I’m not much of an “if only I’d . . . ”  or even a “What a pity I didn’t  . . . ” sort of person. I have this theory, or life image, or concept of the way the Universe works – whichever is the current phrase – about how much control over our own existence each of us has. Perhaps my theory isn’t anything to do with determinism and free will – kismet and all that, perhaps it is actually a theory of time.

Anyway, this seems a good place to whitter on a bit about How Life Works. You see it’s like this. The relationship time has with humanity doesn’t run in a straight line, nor is it a straightforward  sequence of events. Each of us stands in the middle of a gigantic spider’s web of possible futures. Important point here: Radiating from everyone’s NOW are a multitude of possible futures – no pasts. The past is something that humans invented, because we need to learn from experience. It is a mental construct, nothing more.

This is important, because at every step, down whichever of the futures you choose to proceed – you will be standing at the centre of a gigantic spider’s web of possible futures.

The Dog, whose grasp of philosophy is profound, barked at the window. Going over to see what was causing the excitement I found a buzzard sitting on the ridge of the barn roof, not ten yards away. I ran for the camera. Carefully, I poked the camera round the curtain, trying to remain out of view. As I pressed the shutter release – he took off.

Sometimes it’s hard to stay philosophical.

The Greeks Had A Word For It

Cow Parsley?
Cow Parsley?

We’ve started to come across clumps of this on the roadside. What, we wonder is it? A quick look on google gives us a number of options. And they all look the same to us. We’ve decided to title this photo Cow Parsley for no particular reason. It could easily be Wild Carrot or even Hemlock. We did have a poke around the base of the clump looking for a pile of dead Greek philosophers and even called out “Socrates, Socrates. Wherefore art thou?” Getting no reply we tried calling out “Plato, Plato, are you around?” Some people think he just made Socrates up, you know, and the whole poisoning with Hemlock thing was just a literary device, to save himself embarrassment when people asked to be introduced. Conan Doyle had the same problem with Sherlock Holmes.

Our plant is probably quite harmless – but we won’t be tasting it – we’ll trust to rhetoric rather than the scientific method this time.

You can’t really talk about philosophers without quoting one of their wise sayings now, can you?

Socrates (or Plato) said:

I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled poets to write their poetry, but a kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean.

For a moment you thought I knew what I was talking about there, didn’t you?