Regrets

I sorely regret the fact that I have no regrets. 

I’m sorry that I’m not sorry. 

Please forgive me for my unforgivable behavior. 

Never let it be said that I have nothing to say.

I can’t imagine why I’ve done the unimaginable.  If only I were the only one.

I’ll try to consider being more considerate; instead of doing what I ought not, I’ll just make sure not to do what I shouldn’t.

We have ways of having ways; there are passages through the impassible; if you look for what can’t be seen, you’ll find the invisible.

I can’t help that I was born this way at birth; no doubt I’ll live like this until I die.  No one should expect me to do the unexpected; it’s not a surprise that my behavior isn’t surprising.

When it’s all over, I’ll be done; at the endpoint we’ll be finished.  If we start at the beginning, we can count on reaching the end when it’s over.

Of course, if I’ve done something illegal, I will have broken the law.  And if no one will excuse me, then I agree my actions are inexcusable. 

But a person has to admit only those things that are admissible; what we cannot speak of will remain unspoken.  That said, if I’ve failed to express the inexpressible, I’ve also been unable to describe the utterly ineffable.

No one wants to be that guy who is “that guy.”  But I can’t help myself if I’m helpless.

Meanwhile, I’m spending my time spending time and only saying things that can be put into words.

The future will arrive after the present is finished; injuries will happen to those who get hurt.  We know we have feelings because we can feel them; there’s no point in denying the undeniable.

Had I chosen an alternative, I have done something different; but when all is said and done, if I were really someone else, then I wouldn’t be me.

Senescence

I can’t imagine that the fall colors have any evolutionary adaptive advantage for the trees that display them.  They can’t be there to attract any pollinators or dispel predators; my hypothesis is that all those vibrant reds and yellows are simply the background consciousness of Universe bleeding through.  It’s as if the aesthetic impulse of Nature is unable to be suppressed; it just can’t help itself when it comes to making beauty.

In other words, there is no reason why the fall foliage is so fabulous; it just is.

This makes me wonder, though, about all those millennia before human beings were around to appreciate the way the maples blaze and the poplars shimmer; if there weren’t any creatures whose minds perceived the light from the sun off those leaves in the way we do would those colors even exist?  Suppose the only animal organisms in the world were ones whose visual processing machinery couldn’t distinguish between different electromagnetic wavelengths in what we refer to as the visible spectrum.  Wouldn’t we have to conclude that, in such a world, fiery red maples were not?

This, of course, is not meant to detract in any way from the lovely canopy that has dominated backyards and bike trails these last few weeks; nor does it make the ongoing disappearance of that loveliness any less poignant.  On the contrary: the contingent, yet inevitable nature of Nature’s ways inspires me to be even more awestruck by the beauty than I would if it could be shown to have some practical purpose.  That all this might just be a superfluous expression of an exuberant Universe heightens my appreciation for it immeasurably.

Fall is the most fleeting of the seasons around here; all it takes is one big wind and rainstorm and the warm-hued palette goes from over our heads to under our feet.  While it lasts, though, it may be the loveliest of all, especially if all that beauty is really useless.