I wrote another short story. This one is titled The Firefly.
It’s all about regret and redemption.
And hopelessness and release.
And hurt and freedom.
If you’d like to read this small work of fiction, click here.
Last Friday, before joining a small group at dusk searching for bats by the lily pond, I walked around Balboa Park and captured a series of photos.
The golden hour before sunset is indeed magical.
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I probably shouldn’t post this blog. I share some of the guilt. After all, I’m a producer of internet content.
During my walk through Balboa Park today, I felt creeping despair.
Balboa Park is an amazing, wonderful, special place. Lifted eyes see a world that is infinitely interesting and beautiful.
About one third of the people I observed had their eyes absolutely fixed to the tiny screens of their smartphones. They were too obsessed to notice the vast world around them. Nor other people around them.
Of these, many were grown adults searching for a virtual Pokemon, a game fit for the simple mind of a child. At least these people looked up from time to time.
Yes, I know some people were busy communicating with friends, or perhaps looking up information, or a map of the park.
I also know that our lives are complex and so is human psychology. Everyone is different. I, too, have my silly, simple pleasures. It’s hard to draw firm conclusions. Technology changes. The culture changes. People change. Fads come and go.
But it does appear that humans are powerfully drawn to stimuli on isolated screens.
And, of course, the wonderful thing about smartphones is they can make life so much easier. Eye-to-eye politeness is no longer required. The potential for vulnerability in spontaneously spoken words is thankfully avoided. Problem solving is automatic. Critical thinking is less and less necessary. Simple and self-comforting ideas flood social media. Self absorption is made as easy as pie. Narcissism is rewarded.
I often wonder, as virtual reality becomes increasingly prevalent, whether people will permanently insert their whole selves into shallow, shrinking virtual worlds. The Matrix, of our own calculated making.
If it feels good, why fight it?
Here are photos from different walks the past couple of weeks.
It’s odd–how every living experience instantly vanishes, becomes intangible: an insubstantial memory. I look at these photographs and my days seem so ephemeral. Our walk through life is very much like a dream.
I went on a long walk yesterday between rainstorms. It was St. Patrick’s Day.
Many carefree people were heading into downtown to celebrate all things Irish: to attend the big Shamrock event, drink green beer, listen to music, dance a jig and party. Others were not thinking about St. Patrick’s Day.
There are countless participants in San Diego’s life.
One day in the city is infinitely complex. So many untold characters–bending forward in time–crossing paths, weaving a mystery.
Here is a wordless story for the eyes.
Here are some photographs from my Sunday walk through Balboa Park. I enjoyed plenty of culture, sunshine and life. That’s why I go there so often.
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