Single-mindedness is a necessary exercise. How else to “go straight to the store and back, you hear?” It is the ticking off of a list of things to do, the accuracy of accounting and accountability, and of our crucial implementation of protocols and standards and expectations that achieves the correct and precise and needed results. (As a child I always wondered why, whenever we sang the song, “London Bridge is falling down, falling down (and again); we all fall down!” I wondered why the builder just didn’t ensure that it was built correctly!) Then too, one such as I very seldom bothers to ascertain all the facts, find out what the song is really about, check out the references, and make concrete objectivity out of situations. ‘One such as I’ am too right-brained, too intuitive, too abstract, too metaphorical, too distractible, and, well, too wordy.
The metaphorical mind is at once a caged bird. The acculturation of centuries incarcerates it, no matter the freedom its flights of fancy may take. At the same time, the now-a-days mind is advantaged by the very history that brings it to this time-period; all of philosophy and technology are married by the progress of humanity. Nature is affected, yes, but it essentially is on trajectories of its own evolution. It is we, mankind, who with intentions may make the shifts within the reaches of our own consciousness, however accidentally we may land. And yet, conscribed to being human, we cannot yet entirely free ourselves from the cages of society; become a member of any family, any group, any belief system, any town, any city, country, continent or even of our world, and there are evident expectations to follow. How else does one decipher the squiggly characters on this page? Life takes the learning of reading, ‘righting, and ‘rithmatic, right? Just how else is one expected to become (paradoxically) independent? Indeed, to each subgroup within the nests that we birds choose (or not) as we progress among the choices in our lives, there is evident expectation that one follows the rules. Indeed, the very cages within which we each exist are there to protect ourselves from others, as much as they from us. In-deed, it is for the sake of simplicity that our cultures keep it so.
“Just call a spade a spade,” my father often admonished me. He had a very distinct left brain. He was a most punctilious person. Every comma and dot and crossing of the T was precise. He preferred five or six word sentences. He liked simple sentences. “Keep them short. Say it in plain talk. What are you reading, Jane Austen?” Admittedly, our language has changed. (There was even a time when OMG was neither ubiquitous nor understood.) Admittedly, it is easier to be clear, easier to understand what another is getting at, easier to convey the list of groceries, easier to deliver the expectations, and easier to get what you want if you deliver or read or use precise language. (Yet still, one confesses, it takes quite a lot of knowledge to understand the modern lexicon. I for one often interchange LOL for Lots of Love, ha!)
Understanding one another is essential 'in our world'. Yet how are we to expand our knowledge and to stretch beyond our habitual expectations if we do not take on, find out, look up, and even use the new terms, the new ideas, and the new implications arising from ‘out there’? Poetry and analogy and imprecision and obfuscation and parables and stories and mythology and even our every-day lying all have their place in the evolution of our consciousness. Yet precision, so very vital to us too, can ensure that the brakes do not fail. Betwixt practicality and purpose, betwixt intention and product, expectation and delivery, and betwixt thee and me there lies at all times the essential action. (LOL.) Yes, what we do defines our lives. Indeed, life itself is a verb, awaiting movement.