Frank, as always, you have offered us something wonder-filled to contemplate. In many ways, I think, I share in your sensibilities. In that regard, you remind me that I have almost always been acutely aware (which is a wonder-filled word) that I (and, I presumed, other humans–and perhaps animals) had been given a special gift to be enjoyed during life: having perceptions (senses) that lead to consciousness. I still often catch myself in tiny moments wondering about my perceptions of the vastness and minuteness that surrounds me. Like Hamlet, I wonder (there is that word again) what kinds of perceptions will remain when I permanently sleep. And since there is no way of being informed (i.e., aware) of the nature of that permanent sleep, I content myself with the tiny moments. At the same time, though, I am aware (and there is that word again) that too many tiny moments escape my perceptions. Perhaps I should be more attentive.
Frank, as always, you have offered us something wonder-filled to contemplate. In many ways, I think, I share in your sensibilities. In that regard, you remind me that I have almost always been acutely aware (which is a wonder-filled word) that I (and, I presumed, other humans–and perhaps animals) had been given a special gift to be enjoyed during life: having perceptions (senses) that lead to consciousness. I still often catch myself in tiny moments wondering about my perceptions of the vastness and minuteness that surrounds me. Like Hamlet, I wonder (there is that word again) what kinds of perceptions will remain when I permanently sleep. And since there is no way of being informed (i.e., aware) of the nature of that permanent sleep, I content myself with the tiny moments. At the same time, though, I am aware (and there is that word again) that too many tiny moments escape my perceptions. Perhaps I should be more attentive.
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