There isn't really a muse thread.

To be truthful it depends which way I cast my attention. Forward it’s pretty continuous. Backward, in to memory, it’s more a series of scenes. So I don’t know if I can answer the question so black and white.

Unity? Well a connection, which bounds haven’t been fully explored or defined for that matter. But sensible, like an aroma on a breeze, or more like a shift in stance to maintain balance.

Do you think our sense of balance feels maligned? Five siblings and no recognition of the eldest. “Which way is up” is a fairly important consideration.

The balance mentioned before the unity falls neatly in place. It’s hidden state makes me think it’s purposive, some unseen power propagating it, so as to avoid a temporalization, in human terms.

As a result, the human being revolts against this and demands a natural disclosure , which never comes , and if it does at times, its distorted immediately to accommodate a present and presented pseudo apprehension of unity.

A necessity which can never become certain .

Families and resembling types and their descriptions, as singular ways of interactions among them have almost coincided with types of language games, with which to assimilate reality within incteasingly boundrd regions of our conscious efforts.

We try to expurgate our familial deficiencies by casting a wider net, with language we hope will net more familiarity , closure, affinity. It way have been insufficient in our primal family relationships, maybe the secondary versions will be different , with more room to give each other safe escape.

Maybe so, only children , spoiled , nut cast into a different net, where somewhat thoughtfully, attention is knowingly diminished by the proportional division divided by the number, had there been more then one.

But it may work with the father, but mom can’t quantify. So there division but preceded by multiplying the net effect by five.(or the number of children in a family)

I don’t grasp where you jumped to family? And I’m not, to the best of my knowledge, a bastard. The connection is not limited to our species. We are symbiotic as are many species. We literally can’t survive as individuals because we aren’t individuals. Family has little to do with the connectivity we share in common. I’m more connected to the chipmunk in the backyard then I am to a sister who lives 2000 miles away. Sure, family to some, is a big deal, but it’s learned and cultured.

The jump is an existential jump from where we may be: tied into a proto-real shimmering value lime the nrams new Lexus that a neighbor may glean
from across the street to his neighbor, or peering disdainfully at my 2000 raggedy but well kempt wramgler. What if your lawn a sore compared with manicured and soaked ones, make you a pariah of the neighborhood, glancing with accusing snarls, even to the extent of targeting your daily walk with his unmuzzled attack bull , walking towards you, missing on your property. What if in the bright. unending sunshine of the California drought , he disregards what may be really a well intended green act of conservation?

The patently new ignores the deeper moss laden past of the tree’s smaller circular indications of the trunk’s beginnings. Who would guess the tree will die one day, and be dug beneath the earth by enormous ecological pressures, and over the course of millennia become a diamond in the rough , whose only value persists by its gleaming , hardened patina?

The family of resemblances finally erupts in a recognition that the only similarity among familial roots is the word, that supposed to have indicated the beginning.

The words we have to go by
The first thing we learn by having thongs pointed out to us. And that word covers millions of years of evolution. Quite an existential jump for a newby, and then when we reach toward the end, we are back to pointing to signs again. And in the midst of that, were supposed to act as if we were individuals, responsible for our selves and our own family. What a shock when we loose that family, even if we didn’t actually belong to it, for mom or dad may have lost is or passed, or abandoned us, like god did later on .

I’d be a liar if I claimed to understand ALL of your perspective. It’s looser and less metaphorical, and you involve a wider realm of influence then is my familiarity. I guess I’d question more the semantics of what you’re saying far more then what I think you’re saying. I am an idiot to think truth doesn’t come in flavors. Same thing, perhaps different aspects.

Today I spent 4 hours getting struck from jury duty. Lucky my obligation is fulfilled for another four years.

“Beyond a reasonable doubt”.

That is what got me booted. I’m not all that sure I am an authority on reasonable and I’ve got a lot of doubt about our current capacity to judge what is true.

I don’t think the courts can adequately define what would be considered guilty or not.

Being there, with the defendant, in the courtroom, seems somehow to violate my notions of presumed innocence. It adds suspicion to the picture and I’m autistic enough not to understand that within presumed innocence. And all the games that can be played with human perception.

I am inclined to believe there isn’t anyone who actually knows what’s going on. The rest is bullshit, mine included.

Is it reasonable to doubt your perception?

A lucid man.

2 months ago a similar thing happened to me as well, jury duty up ended me in a civil case where injury was claimed by a woman who claimed for 250,000 damages for a small bump on the rear.professional doctors leAving their professions left their jobs and became professional witnesses because of the high price of medical insurance, and the former was lucrative. It was a circus to apprehend the way these doctors countered each other coming to opposite conclusions , using the same set of data. The jury was aghast, and confused, but finally came to a reasonable judgement based on no appearance injury, and only payout based on evidence of property damage.

As we exited the glaring hate of the woman and her lawyer were quite evidentiary of their attitudes based on deception.

I agree, presumptions have to be made, yet they are needed for utilitarian purposes. The thing is, the party who is more articulate and convincing is the one the jury usually finds for.

The presumption of innocence issue has come up in reference to the Mueller investigation just very recently, by conservative criticizing Mueller for using the very opposite of that legal maneuver, by accusing Mueller of presuming Trump’s guilt. This is bad form, and gives ammunition to Republicans for bias, the kind which arguably can remove all perceived guilty parties, up and down the Justice Department, giving forey into Mueller’s dismissal.

The mind staggers at the ramifications top to bottom.

I think it reasonable to be lucid, at the very least to extend effort toward that aim.

Not always sure the target got hit. It seems so flipping far away how can one tell?

And every once in a while I go manic, rather then my depressed counterpart, and I get to savor a sweetness of life as peachy. Gotta be grateful for mania.

Only during these rare moments do I ever think anything I could think of could possibly come true.

Yet there will always and forever be that old gray mare. Some call her a nag.

Egging me on.

Hey Meno,

I haven’t a clue how to build a bridge over a chasm I can not fill. {Sting sentiment}

One shovel full at a time?

And perhaps when the back is really sore, the best that can be mustard is a half.

You can sometimes, but not by telling.when it comes, fill in but not build a bridge from a suspended arch sitting on a middle base, rising to expected tension when two ends meet, add a little from one, then the other end, so as to feel the meeting of an emerging cupola, but reading the tension, as it creates a supportable balance, stronger then if, it beats its pressure down to a real upstanding single leg. Go inward toward the pressure, not outward, to the sides, let them be their support , stronger, unseen.

Draw an imaginary arch of where they will end up, rather than postulating on a pre drawn expected point.

Its more of an inner sanctum.

Up the ante, for there is little hope in synthesis.

If I could cross that chasm to add to the other side I wouldn’t need the bridge or the fill. Flood it with water and float across?

Manic; it really is such a waste of time. Where do ideas go when they are not harvested? Can’t seem to reap what I sow.

Probably the ideas get stuck, and then they come up from some source, unglued , a trigger , that is an controllable urge, may be, usually spring, in the season of and/or like a myth of springing from ahead, from vast catacombs of hidden memory, may be or June even April.

Athene born to Zeus for swallowing her mother

Somehow now; it’s makes perfect sense. That is cool. And sort of makes you go “hmmmm”?

Thanks Orbie

Identity is difficult , but the ideas never go anywhere because they are nowhere. Nowhere, man, nowhere man, they are always reconstructed after a good night’s sleep, from the vestiges of what remains the days before. Other then that everyone acts a role, he thinks appropriate for the occasion. Thanks for remembering. Does that mean that I am an inadequate or unconvincing actor in any stage , or on any stage?

I think that would be your call. I’m still catching up. Gotta think slow, trying to feel groovy.

But striving to overcome self indulgence is possible albeit a rocky road, it does coincide with a pattern of manic and denied variations.

Fifty years ago before quantum time, such thoughts would have been labeled as folly.