The Confessions of Ira Short

I've been here before, this place in my life. Maybe it's a stage, rather than a place. It's a restless feeling that nags at me, like a splinter in my mind Part of it is annual. I don't like the short days of winter, I like sun and warmth ... part of why I live in the desert. When the days start to get noticeably longer, about the middle of March, it starts. I come out of hibernation, and I want to be doing. Cabin fever yields to spring fever. But there's also a longer cycle, and about every 8-10 years a deeper assessment takes place. A consideration of where I am, and where I want to be. Sort of a pause to get my bearings, and check the map. 10 years ago I made some major changes, changed tack, and headed for the horizon. A lot has happened since then, mostly good, some not so much. A course adjustment is in order; I'm not lost, just off a couple points to windward. My mom was really good at guiding me through a few of these. I didn't recognize it when

I had my first epiphany (in the Joycean, secular sense, not the religious one) when I was in second grade, standing next to the telephone pole across the street from my house, talking to the girl next door. I don't remember how the conversation came up - it was probably one of those challenges kids throw at each other, of the "I know something you don't know" kind. The problem was "what is 3 times 2"? I couldn't tell you exactly what she said that triggered it, but at that moment a clear vision of two sets of three appeared in my head. 3 times 2 actually meant 3, two times. All I had to do was add them. Mostly what I remember though was the sensation - that feeling that a door had been opened in my head, that "ah-ha", light bulb moment. That brief moment when it seems you can touch something eternal, a glimpse into the infinite. Decades later, they still happen. I would really miss them if they didn't. On one level, I know that it is

So much of our time is spent on routines, doing the same things over and over, day after day. With repetition comes habituation. After performing the same actions enough times, we get to a point where we don't really have to think about what we are doing, we go on automatic pilot. This is the whole point of an athlete practicing their skills, in an effort to commit them to "muscle memory", to sharpen their reactions to a point where they become almost subconcious. But habits can be a two-edged sword. On the one hand, it does facilitate the performance of repetitive tasks, reducing them to a series of simple, well-worn steps. This allows us to accomplish mundane tasks with a minimum of effort. It gives us a sense of security in knowing that we have the day-to-day aspects of our life under control. These seemingly positive aspects of our routines become negatives after long use. The rote following of a learned behavior means that behavior is no longer being examin

Even though I'm back to getting up in the dark because of the time change, my commute still has its rewards. That snow will be gone soon. So much of our time is spent on routines, doing the same things over and over, day after day. After awhile it becomes a habit, we become blind to it; "just another day driving to work". Yesterday afternoon I was doing yard work ... OK, I was cleaning up after the dogs. I do it every weekend, and the next weekend I'll have to do it again. It was fairly warm yesterday, and I was enjoying the warm sun on my back. I worked my way around the yard, head down, searching the sloping ground. When I reached the bottom, I stopped for a moment to scan the yard to see if I missed anything, and I briefly caught a flicker from the corner of my eye. I turned my gaze up to to look. From the empty lot across the way, dozens of butterflies were flying towards me. These were not the lazy summer butterflies that dance aimlessly from flower to flowe

Time is a construct we have created in order to explain our presence in this precise instant. Since the future is unknown - to the point we have no idea if it will even occur - our only point of reference is the immediate past. Where you are right now is only understandable in the context of where you just were. The words I am writing right now are not in fact what I am thinking at this exact moment. Between the time the idea comes into my head and the time that the words appear on the page an entire of range of activities takes place that creates the sentence on the page. Although my perception may be that this occurs almost simultaneously, there is a measurable delay between the thought and its exposition; I am describing something that has already happened (the thought). In the meantime my thoughts have continued on to form the next idea which will then be converted into action (typing) that yields the next sentence. After the fact. From the point of view of my consciousness