An Eceltic Song of Nature, Function and Mental Energy.

 The Great Aurelius, the Stoic Antonine, reminds that we as rational people have a sort of mental opt-in/opt-out option regarding nature.  This is evidenced in joy and to a lesser extent in fear, but think of how we can take control of our breath, the voluntary/involuntary functioning that we can come forward and take over.

We have the opt-in to nature, but consider the less rational living bodies in creation; they have no such luxury, and are pretty much slaves to nature, instinct and innate things, the slow march of learned behavior.

Just as the chimpanzees sometimes rage against the onlookers at the zoo, so too do we, on our FB and IG rage, rage, against the indignity of our individual plight.  Of that, it came to me once that I was no more or less deserving in my own judgement, when compared, no less susceptible or prone to bouts of luck and even the groans of fate.

Indeed, one of my familiars died slowly by the roadside, yet others quietly in their beds, and another collapsed.  I could label each "good" or "evil", but to different people I might appear either or both "good" and "evil", and in my own human balance, entirely at the mercy of whatever comes along.

Entirely at the mercy is the precipitate of nature, to take what nature gives, or given a certain rational appraisal, to develop talents, or address deficits of personal ability.

Effervescent, like Pamala Faulksboro's heart, the melting ice, a certain cool whiff.  Or like the Pullitzer winning book, Fartnoy's Complaint, and all of these high muck-a-mucks moving things in and around, under and through and so forth, yet their own destinies can be a tragic news story at any moment; that is the acceptance, the cost of the filthy blood money, to become a 60 mil/yr CEO is to hang on a thread, one bad news story from the unemployment line, the golden parachute, as it were.

We can opt-in to nature, by choice, accept it, and refrain from summary judgments on others, and when we so rarely see them at their best, or worse yet, the may even look put-upon or out-of-their-depth in terms of outward appearance, when at once, they are, unrecognized by the onlooker, at their very peak performance.

We take Evangelicals as an example of functionalism, as just today I read of everyone being called to some function as a church member, be it only conversational, or whether it requires the investment of a 4-year Theology degree, a kind of Functionalism for the energetic people functioning as parts of a body.

Think of a band, a music-playing band.  A better example.  Each member there for a reason, and in some units, the unuseful or unused leave or are expelled rudely.  Rocks that don't roll, shadows taller than our souls, many have known the pain of that kind of expulsion before finding a band that appreciated one's talents and worked well together.

As for today, we cooperate in some extend, I a right hand, and you a left hand, working at the control panels, the store room, the maintenance closet, and other such parephrenalia of the life Futnuckerous; we are continually advanced by our own mental process, intensities and doldrums that assail, that call the play, signals as it were, and our own brain without even the electro-chemical power to even hope to light a light bulb.