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July 28th 2010    Tim Candler

    The better concept is a primordial ooze out of which emerges a structure.   In its pure form this structure would match the vagaries of its environment and thrive.  And I would be God.   But generally for the human condition there is no primordial ooze, instead there is a complexity of idea that wanders into mud where too often it drowns in assumptions.

     We do however possess enthusiasm, the nature of which tends to blur reality.  And just as well, otherwise the dour and obstinate rule our cave.   But enthusiasm is precast in a stubborn relationship with past time and those expectations emerging from past time.  Amongst us, as we enter the mud, we are pattern laden because so much of us is precast and then guarded by emotion.  Back there in the primordial ooze new things are deformed things that run their course through a brutal mathematics of possibilities.   We on the other hand are supposed to be better than that.

   Then in the late part of July dreams are beaten out of a gardener.   He is sent reeling.  I look at me now laboring in the heat of insect, and something that makes a person sneeze, and I can see the flaws in all my winter arguments.   Just depressing to think back to sparkling eyes and January promises made so easily eternal while snug indoors and nothing grew.   It's a hanging fruit, Kentucky's own Dipper Gourd that without fail bangs me on the head every single time I pass through the arch.   I should be grateful to it.

    Yet, the patterns in my mind predict a renewal, and some prefer to call this renewal 'enthusiasm'.   A word that on reflection is certainly a pompous way of looking at it.    

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