Saturday, March 21, 2015
on the edge of dreams
It's not that I don't like what is good or moral of joyful -- I do -- but I have had about enough of the salesmanship which, as with religious belief, tends to do nothing so much as to underscore the doubt-strewn evil, immoral and sorrowing circumstances that occasioned it. Enjoying joy is one thing; talking about it is like sucking a mouthful of soggy dandruff. Oh well, I guess I don't like being reminded of what I too have been guilty of.
Anyway, waking up this morning, I was attacked by two unreasoning bits of joy and thankfulness. They hovered on the line between dream and wakefulness and so their randomness seemed sensible and OK.
The first was a marveling joy to have lived at a time when there were pencil sharpeners, Not electric ones, but hand-cranked and miraculously engineered. An honest invention that really was practical and useful and trimmed the waste that occurred when trying to sharpen a pencil with a jack knife. I marveled at the spiraling gears that rode around the pencil shank and turned out a wonderfully pointy product. Somehow, the pencil sharpener was as honest as a hand-shake -- no frills, to talk of goodness or morality or marvel ,,, just honest and decent... and miraculous.
Somehow the magic of a pencil (how does anyone shape the graphite and inject it into a wooden shaft?!) did not enter my joyous bomb zone. It was the sharpener whose magic was probably sharpened in the memory of trying to sharpen a pencil with the jack knife that everyone carried as a matter of course when I was a kid. Sharpening a pencil with a knife can be done, but it requires the kind of patient energy a kid might rather spend on bike-riding.
A pencil sharpener ... wowsers! ... thank you very much.
The second jet of joy was the thought that in my lifetime I had probably known one or two people who were intelligent without being stupid -- a rare combo. I'll admit I couldn't name names, but somehow the faith was there ... yes, I had known one or two and it was a piece of wonderful luck. I didn't have to prove my faith, It was enough to have it.
So it goes on the edge of dreams.
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I remember the lovely fragrance of the shavings. Even now, after fifty years, it takes me back to little-child days. Thank you for the reminder, Adam. You have brightened my day.ReplyDelete
I can't let "honest handshake" go by without some suspicion that all handshakes are not honest. You've roused my inner iconoclast.ReplyDelete