As I mentioned a couple of posts ago, the previous name of this blog had nothing to do with the content. It was just a nod to a type of wordplay that I enjoy. I think that many disappointed web searchers arrived at the site as a result. The new name is actually an old one, the title of an essay I wrote many years ago. It’s about a common thing that happens between people: you bond through shared experience, but as the vaporous passion and overstimulation of youth burn away over the slow dull coals of maturity, you perceive the true tenuous nature of that bond. Either what we need from other people changes as we grow older, or it just takes us awhile to figure out what we needed in the first place. Then again, with human beings it is rarely a matter of one option or another. Sometimes other people simply stop giving us what we need, either consciously or unconsciously. Or we tire of seeking it out from them, realizing we’d sooner squeeze blood from a stone. I suppose that, in the end, it’s usually a blurry blend of all of the above. Often when I look around and try to figure out what’s going on in the world, it’s like I’m peering through a jar of cloudy pond water. I see signs of life and movement, but what it all points toward is beyond me.
All posts in category insane humans
from the bottom of the roiling pond
Posted by sean on November 30, 2009
https://sd-stewart.com/2009/11/30/from-the-bottom-of-the-roiling-pond/
a walk to calm the mind
Concentric circles radiated outward across the water’s surface, each one born of a single drop of rain. I could have easily stared for hours, the quiet moments punctuated by the rattling cry of a kingfisher racing at low altitude back and forth above this portion of the stream. But instead I moved on, muddled thoughts swirling in my head as my eyes struggled to extract the beauty from a natural scene blighted by humanity’s grotesque reminders: the ubiquitous plastic bags hanging like profane ornaments in the branches along the stream’s banks, the silver hubcap gleaming obtrusively in the bushes, the child’s beach ball bobbling in a section of rapids. I thought, I could clean it up, spend hours of my free time picking trash from the water and the surrounding bushes and trees. But I know it would be a fruitless never-ending task. Instead I entered the arboretum and stood listening to the chickadees, cardinals, and robins as they no doubt discussed the weather. I walked around, read the signs, checked out the aqueduct system and the rain barrels. I left then and began to climb the hill. As I climbed, I noticed some early spring bulbs poking their heads bravely out of the soil. A few daffodils have even bloomed, splashing surprising color here and there across a still mostly dull brown background. Last week in Texas, it was shocking to see so many trees budding out, some already in leaf, and the beds at the Dallas Arboretum bursting with flowers in full bloom. Soon things will turn the corner here, I thought. There are signs we will yet vanquish winter. I arrived back home then cold and a little wet, but with a calm mind.
Posted by sean on March 15, 2009
https://sd-stewart.com/2009/03/15/a-walk-to-calm-the-mind/
pedestrian non grata
At the bottom of the hill there is a traffic light. If I push the button on the pole, the light will turn red, the white “Walk” signal will light up, and I can safely cross the street in the crosswalk. This is all in theory, of course. In actual practice, I push the button on the pole, the traffic light turns red, the “Walk” signal lights up, I step into the crosswalk, and at least one, if not two, cars promptly run the red light and narrowly avoid hitting me. This is not an occasional occurrence. This happens every single time I cross this street. Every time without fail. Frequently I watch people with determined looks on their faces punch the gas as the light turns yellow then red before they have even reached the white line. I then pause in the middle of the crosswalk as the force of their passing vehicle’s speed practically knocks me over. Other times the drivers wear blissful unconcerned expressions as they sail through the red light, very nearly running over my foot or striking my knee with their front bumper. Often one hand clamps a cell phone to a fleshy cheek like some vulgar plastic appendage, as vacant eyes either fail to notice the 6 foot 2 man in the middle of the street or simply choose to ignore him. This morning once again as I reached the middle of the crosswalk, a middle-aged woman in an SUV paused uncertainly at the red light for a split second before racing forward, eyes locked ahead with a crooked half-smile hung on her porcine visage. I stood so close I could see her pores. This light basically exists to serve the pedestrians, as there is no direct cross street that the light also controls. Drivers know this and so they know that they can run this light without the possibility of striking another car, which would thus put themselves and their vehicle in danger. But when the element of personal danger to one’s own self is removed, every driver morphs into a scofflaw on the roads. And who cares about the person walking in the street? They are merely obstacles in the way. As a pedestrian in a major U.S. city, I see the worst of this behavior exhibited in humanity every day and it makes me both sick to my stomach and sick in my heart.
Posted by sean on January 15, 2009
https://sd-stewart.com/2009/01/15/pedestrian-non-grata/
balance
I desperately needed time in the woods today. Lately there had been too much time spent in urban centers, too much time spent in cars, too much plane travel, too much time away. I find it necessary to stay in tune with what the birds are doing. I find comfort in their activities. The simple beauty of their lifestyle makes sense to me. I hear the sweet rhythm in how they live. But when I turn my ear to my fellow human beings I hear erratic discordant noise. The unpredictability of it all sets me on edge. I watch the birds search for food and then I watch people drive faster and faster in metal boxes along strips of pavement. Where is the sense in that? Birds seek food and shelter, they travel to warmer climes for winter, and back north again to raise families. People walk through the woods, coarse and loud, talking crassly on their cell phones. We violate the places where wildlife struggle to make their homes, over and over in increasingly egregious ways. When I enter the woods, I think of it as a chapel. Here we are silent, here we are respectful, here we do our best to make a minimal impact. Here we observe quietly. The birds are easier to see in the fall as the trees shed their leaves. But it’s harder to sneak up on them, when you are crunching on those fallen leaves. It was a perfect day to be in the woods. The golden light spread through the trees and fell upon everything below. I soaked it up. I rested and recovered. I breathed deep. And then I strode unwillingly back out into the madness.
Posted by sean on October 31, 2008
https://sd-stewart.com/2008/10/31/balance/
clocking in at #5
A Google search for the phrase “insane humans” (without quotes) returns this blog at #5 in the list. This seems noteworthy. It’s good to know that I am fulfilling my mission, which clearly includes providing information about insane humans from the most reliable source: one of their own. I sincerely hope that one day this blog may come in at #1 in the list, and in the meantime I will continue to diligently and tirelessly document further insane human activity. Thank you.
Posted by sean on July 15, 2008
https://sd-stewart.com/2008/07/15/clocking-in-at-5/
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