Bucolic Idyll
If social media proves nothing else to me, it is that hardly anyone reads anymore to the point of improving themselves to make a difference in a hurting world. Many seem content to scour the internet for memes of few words to define themselves, then bounce to the next thing. That is quite like tattoos to me. I don’t particularly find anything harmful concerning tattoos — or memes — though with a total area of about 22 square feet of skin for me, which is insufficient room for the magnum opus that is me, I just don’t see the necessity. I wouldn’t stand still long enough for you to read it anyway, not that you would. Tattoos do throw off symmetry, which is disconcerting to my eye. It’s much like taking the masterpiece that God created you to be and turning it into something determined as ‘better’, though it’s nothing short of refrigerator art at best. A permanent Magic Marker scribbled across the Mona Lisa likely wouldn’t diminish its worth much if at all, though no one would see it the same way again. As it is DaVinci’s idea of the cosmic link of humanity and nature, perhaps you prefer nature with graffiti. Not me.
I’m convinced that many who read at all these days select only that which does not edify in any sense… though they believe it does. Mainstream legacy media does little to no real journalism anymore, instead prioritizing your attention over truth and welfare. I believe it’s because they’re trying to shape the world to their liking. I don’t much care for their “liking”, which seems more a God-less Pandora’s box. While that’s shamefully provable, many repost such diatribe without any validity whatsoever except that it agreed with their proclivity. If one has no idea that Pravda and truth are two ends of a spectrum, it might pay to understand the meaning of words, because words mean things. If you do not know, Pravda, meaning ‘truth’, was a Russian newspaper during the cold war. It’s function was as a Communist apparatchik to dumb down its citizens to the free world around them… no truth in that. Truth is not yours to consider any way you decide to fit a worldview… truth is whatever conforms to reality. The problem is reality is in short supply of late. Some attempt to go beyond reality to something they prefer themselves to be (untruth) and demand all others agree with it… or get canceled. As far as I’m concerned, they’re free to do whatever they choose if it doesn’t hurt anyone, but I will not be involved in their silly game. Jesus was cancelled, too, though reality and the laws of nature to keep it in check, were wrapped up in Him. Ironic.
There once were local newspapers that contained within their pages words that were actual news. Yet, you also got sports, editorials, financials, obituaries, classifieds, puzzles, coupons, and comics… a bargain for the price. It was within those pages that I first took note of words and their meaning. I was fascinated with editorials by William F. Buckley, who no doubt had a command of both words and the human condition. I read so many articles about disgruntled workers who murdered coworkers before I looked up the word. Gruntled is an archaic word meaning happy… “How are you doing today?” “Quite gruntled, thank you for asking.” That portends anything but happy to me. Apparently, only those who have lost their mind at their workplace fall under the category of ‘disgruntled’, as the word was used by many different reporters in many different articles of only just such things. Later, newspapers and broadcast news reported a specific American president’s determination as gravitas — not a word you might ever consider — for weeks. It indicated an established ‘playbook’ — rules — for the many reporters, meaning that this was not news, but rather editorialism, which is nothing more than opinion. That’s not journalism, though much that passes for journalism now has descended into that.
English is a combination of Latin, Greek, and a smattering of other languages. As such, its exceptions and rules are boundless and confusing. “I wound the wound with bandages.” “My decision not to desert my dessert in the desert was sweet.” Try explaining that to those who only know English as a second language. Most everyone I know speaks English, though even the highly educated ones often use the language improperly… the use of ‘myself’ instead ‘me’ is usually a dead giveaway. Another is using so many words to say so little. Shakespeare stated that, “Brevity is the soul of wit.” I take that into account every time I write. You don’t think so? I pared this down from 378 pages… ha!
Often, I learned as much from the comics as I did from the news in the newspapers. I first ran across the word ‘bucolic’ in a comic strip about an aimless (both figuratively and literally… I crack myself up!) cowboy named Tumbleweeds. In it was a character, a brave of the Poohawk tribe, named Bucolic Buffalo. He was a hulking, dangerous, and dense contender for the chief’s daughter. Do you know what bucolic means? It is relating to the pleasant aspects of the countryside and country life… that’s the antithesis of the character Bucolic Buffalo. That’s funny, though I wonder how many understood the dichotomy. The word idyll is nearly synonymous with bucolic, meaning an extremely happy, peaceful, or picturesque episode or scene, typically an idealized or unsustainable one. To me, this image of a yearling elk fits that title to a tee.
This image was taken at Cataloochee, high in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Cataloochee is a Cherokee word meaning fringe, referring to the woods that surround the large pastures there, though it may mean that you must be on the fringe just to get there. Many are terrified of going there because of the narrow dirt road along a high ledge that is necessary to drive up to get there. For those people, I offer this tip… don’t drive off the ledge. That could hurt. This reminds me that we just shot through another new year with the booms and hoopla, “peace”, “best year ever”, and so on. If the past year is any indicator, I believe we’re headed into some pain. Pain, although difficult, serves a greater purpose of spiritual growth and transformation. Through pain, individuals can develop virtues such as empathy, compassion, and humility. We can all use a dose of that. Me? I think I’ll follow this fella’s attitude to hunker down and blend with my idyllic surroundings... so to speak. Happy New Year just the same… and don’t drive off the ledge.
Bucolic Idyll
If social media proves nothing else to me, it is that hardly anyone reads anymore to the point of improving themselves to make a difference in a hurting world. Many seem content to scour the internet for memes of few words to define themselves, then bounce to the next thing. That is quite like tattoos to me. I don’t particularly find anything harmful concerning tattoos — or memes — though with a total area of about 22 square feet of skin for me, which is insufficient room for the magnum opus that is me, I just don’t see the necessity. I wouldn’t stand still long enough for you to read it anyway, not that you would. Tattoos do throw off symmetry, which is disconcerting to my eye. It’s much like taking the masterpiece that God created you to be and turning it into something determined as ‘better’, though it’s nothing short of refrigerator art at best. A permanent Magic Marker scribbled across the Mona Lisa likely wouldn’t diminish its worth much if at all, though no one would see it the same way again. As it is DaVinci’s idea of the cosmic link of humanity and nature, perhaps you prefer nature with graffiti. Not me.
I’m convinced that many who read at all these days select only that which does not edify in any sense… though they believe it does. Mainstream legacy media does little to no real journalism anymore, instead prioritizing your attention over truth and welfare. I believe it’s because they’re trying to shape the world to their liking. I don’t much care for their “liking”, which seems more a God-less Pandora’s box. While that’s shamefully provable, many repost such diatribe without any validity whatsoever except that it agreed with their proclivity. If one has no idea that Pravda and truth are two ends of a spectrum, it might pay to understand the meaning of words, because words mean things. If you do not know, Pravda, meaning ‘truth’, was a Russian newspaper during the cold war. It’s function was as a Communist apparatchik to dumb down its citizens to the free world around them… no truth in that. Truth is not yours to consider any way you decide to fit a worldview… truth is whatever conforms to reality. The problem is reality is in short supply of late. Some attempt to go beyond reality to something they prefer themselves to be (untruth) and demand all others agree with it… or get canceled. As far as I’m concerned, they’re free to do whatever they choose if it doesn’t hurt anyone, but I will not be involved in their silly game. Jesus was cancelled, too, though reality and the laws of nature to keep it in check, were wrapped up in Him. Ironic.
There once were local newspapers that contained within their pages words that were actual news. Yet, you also got sports, editorials, financials, obituaries, classifieds, puzzles, coupons, and comics… a bargain for the price. It was within those pages that I first took note of words and their meaning. I was fascinated with editorials by William F. Buckley, who no doubt had a command of both words and the human condition. I read so many articles about disgruntled workers who murdered coworkers before I looked up the word. Gruntled is an archaic word meaning happy… “How are you doing today?” “Quite gruntled, thank you for asking.” That portends anything but happy to me. Apparently, only those who have lost their mind at their workplace fall under the category of ‘disgruntled’, as the word was used by many different reporters in many different articles of only just such things. Later, newspapers and broadcast news reported a specific American president’s determination as gravitas — not a word you might ever consider — for weeks. It indicated an established ‘playbook’ — rules — for the many reporters, meaning that this was not news, but rather editorialism, which is nothing more than opinion. That’s not journalism, though much that passes for journalism now has descended into that.
English is a combination of Latin, Greek, and a smattering of other languages. As such, its exceptions and rules are boundless and confusing. “I wound the wound with bandages.” “My decision not to desert my dessert in the desert was sweet.” Try explaining that to those who only know English as a second language. Most everyone I know speaks English, though even the highly educated ones often use the language improperly… the use of ‘myself’ instead ‘me’ is usually a dead giveaway. Another is using so many words to say so little. Shakespeare stated that, “Brevity is the soul of wit.” I take that into account every time I write. You don’t think so? I pared this down from 378 pages… ha!
Often, I learned as much from the comics as I did from the news in the newspapers. I first ran across the word ‘bucolic’ in a comic strip about an aimless (both figuratively and literally… I crack myself up!) cowboy named Tumbleweeds. In it was a character, a brave of the Poohawk tribe, named Bucolic Buffalo. He was a hulking, dangerous, and dense contender for the chief’s daughter. Do you know what bucolic means? It is relating to the pleasant aspects of the countryside and country life… that’s the antithesis of the character Bucolic Buffalo. That’s funny, though I wonder how many understood the dichotomy. The word idyll is nearly synonymous with bucolic, meaning an extremely happy, peaceful, or picturesque episode or scene, typically an idealized or unsustainable one. To me, this image of a yearling elk fits that title to a tee.
This image was taken at Cataloochee, high in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Cataloochee is a Cherokee word meaning fringe, referring to the woods that surround the large pastures there, though it may mean that you must be on the fringe just to get there. Many are terrified of going there because of the narrow dirt road along a high ledge that is necessary to drive up to get there. For those people, I offer this tip… don’t drive off the ledge. That could hurt. This reminds me that we just shot through another new year with the booms and hoopla, “peace”, “best year ever”, and so on. If the past year is any indicator, I believe we’re headed into some pain. Pain, although difficult, serves a greater purpose of spiritual growth and transformation. Through pain, individuals can develop virtues such as empathy, compassion, and humility. We can all use a dose of that. Me? I think I’ll follow this fella’s attitude to hunker down and blend with my idyllic surroundings... so to speak. Happy New Year just the same… and don’t drive off the ledge.