lester

connected meanderings
2005-08-12 22:09:44 (UTC)

contemplative writing

Contemplative Writing 8/11/05

I have before me two pictures of the larynx, an organ when
in grade school that mystified me greatly. I couldn’t
figure out how the breathing, swallowing and speaking
functions were organized. Fortunately we had a good health
book that outlined a diagram of the pharynx, larynx and
esophagus very well so I could figure out how it seemed.
It remained somewhat of a mystery forever, however, so
that I’m grateful for having happened upon these two in
the pile distributed by the leader of the class that we’ve
commenced.

Speaking stems from larynxes and the human larynx
positions itself very differently in the throat of people
compared to the other great apes. Language use hinges on
stories. Humans, I’m fond of saying, are the story-using
animal and in this differ from other animals, though
other animals also use stories they do so very
differently, or so we humans confidently claim. Humans
also use allies very effectively, more do in a
differentiated manner than do other animals, or so we
confidently feel, discounting the advantages in numbers
that herds, prides, schools and other congregations of
animals possess.

One laryngeal image shows in light and dark with the light
being in the yellow hues; the other a reverse image ranges
from blue to white but uses blue tones. I see now it’s the
epiglottis, the appendage that we use to keep from choking
when swallowing. The two images could be other things,
for instance, several of recent contributions to the
Epidemic Peace Imagery have recently featured the sun.

The other image relates to the night, to the near being
lighted and the far being dark. Deep inside can be dark,
like night, like the scary parts of dreams. I seem in my
activities to avoid some things. This may include a
distancing myself from the realization of a considerable
loneliness; I lately reluctantly admit that I’m lonely,
but to get close to another person has its potential for
disappointment. This stems from roots in my childhood,
when my ambitious mother felt hindered from developing by
being tied to a farm life and insufficient means to do
much other than that. She encouraged myself and my
brothers but then felt jealous of our having achieved what
she could not. This caused her to wax and wane in her
being an audience to our stories.

Every child, I’ve come to realize needs a good audience to
what he or she thinks, feels and formulates into his or
her own storyline. Saw a movie last night called Me and
You and Everyone We Know. Children of all ages from 5 to
70 (or more) were featured with audiences sought in most
poignant ways.

Here in this group our larynxes are silent or least
anything vocalized is very subdued. Yet we’re moving
together in time, which historian William McNeill once
titled a book, as he discovered in his own experience was
a very bonding thing to happen: when we move together (in
this case we’re writing) we bond. When meditating earlier,
I realized that this extended to posturing together. This
common posture, which unites all Buddhists, much more than
verbally transmitted tradition, has a wonderfully bonding
capacity.

I appreciate the opportunity to type not use long hand, as
my fingers fatigue. Not that they don’t this way, but
since I’m very used to this, I appreciate the potential
for my own individual effort.




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