The Wise Ry Guy

So I bike a lot

and biking is an interesting way to see the world

especially if the road ahead curves down and then rises up again

and the trees open up around the straightaway and accompanying convenience stores

and an image, a complete scene, presents itself and steals away quicker than the thoughts necessary to comprehend it move to reach from the beginning of your mind to its end

In order to describe that scene just now, I had to point out individual things

which I did without even consciously choosing to

the trees, stores, road, horizon, sidewalk – all parts of my description or the thought process behind it at the very least

I certainly don’t think I articulated all the details in a way which could conjure an image true to what I experienced

I was vague

I pointed out individual things, yes, but the minimum that I had to

Because to me, it is a scene

Not a collection of objects, all of which would be determined to be scenes themselves upon closer inspection

But nonetheless ’twas a scene to admire

though brief, it could not leave me nonplussed and aweless

nonplussed by the way is a crazy word

look it up

so I was biking, and I lifted my head at the right moment in the right place at the right time for myself to be in the certain position and the material world to be under the certain conditions accessory to the construction of this scene and my experience of it

I listen to podcasts when I bike

It used always to be music, but I’ve recently transitioned into hearing the spoken dialogue

and I’ve done this partly because i wish to become fluent in ideas

and versatile in conversation

To increase in knowledge, yes, but also to learn the ins and outs of rational verbal exchange so as to be able to approach any reasonable conversation and contribute competently, simply as a result of my ability to think

because, though you might not guess it from the wordiness and volume of my writing,

Im not a talker

Articulation is really truly not my thing

I suffer from a lame tongue

And the things I feel and the ideas that manifest themselves in the mind of my chest and the belly of my brain and the heart of my head,

These things are not articulate objects

These things are scenes.

They present themselves then steal away, and I cannot understand them comprehensively because I have not the words

I have not the precision of sight

My bike cycles forward upon a world which does the same, directly in front of my eyes

and the wider my frame of sight, the larger my inability to articulate

To see everything is beautiful

But to see each thing…

makes sense

And as frustrating as seeing everything at once is

my motion forward allowed me to discover the detail and nuance which that original larger frame had concealed

If I want to be able to speak competently,

I must encounter the parts of an idea in order to reinvent the whole through empirical and syllogistic construction at increasingly smaller categorical levels