It’s not always meaninglessness.

It’s not always meaninglessness.  Sometimes it’s precisely because things are so filled with meaning, or because there are so many layers, so many dimensions, of meaning, that they overwhelm us–not only because the wind comes and blows all meaning away, but the wind that comes with leaves, clouds of leaves of meaning and flurries of snows of meaning, or downpours of meaning, is so incredibly multifaceted, so complex and challenging and contradictory, that it might as well be chaos, that it might as well be the height of meaninglessness, the storm coming in of meaninglessness in the form of overabundance–of meaning.


  1. lifelessons says:

    I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately….a lot!!! When I think that all that I have created in my life will one day vanish, I realize its importance lies in its creation, but, I have a poem going to the moon in the Polaris missile to be buried in a time capsule on the moon! Will this somehow prolong my significance? Will the moon outlast the Earth? Does it matter in the entire chain of things? It was much easier when I was a kid in Sunday School believing in a Methodist definition of God and Heaven. At any rate, your essay seems to be following the same train of thought–and beyond.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Richard Q says:

      Thank you for the utterly concrete and beautiful response to this piece, Judy. I think there is something poignant in sending a poem to the moon. I even think the gesture can be joined to (believing in) cosmic impermanence, as just a way to have our words, which can expand beyond and further beyond any locality, touch a land other than earth’s, where it was born. I love the intention with which the gesture is pregnant, since there is probably so much, since the invention of the radio (again, speaking concretely!), that is quite unintentionally left to immortalization! It has me fall in love with this moon-poem, even not having read it, just with the thought that it could be there, on this disc or sliver of light, or noticeable absence, I gaze into every night.


    1. Richard Q says:

      Thank you, Priti. I hope your days are full and empty in sweet proportion.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Priti says:

        I don’t know but not in good proportion 😁

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Priti says:


        Liked by 1 person

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