[MD] Flying Spagetti Monsters

[Platt Holden]

Hey SA,

     [Platt]
> I think in this case we're talking to ourselves.
> Which raises a question 
> I've never solved: Who is the I that talks to me?

[SA]
     And how come we need wood and everything else to
have our minds full of something, that is static
patterns, and that's why their obvious.

Sorry. I lost the meaning there.

     [Platt]
> Isn't this simply saying that without a ceiling
> there would be no Sistine 
> Chapel?  Or without an up there would be no down? 
> Isn't your point
> rather obvious?

[SA]
     My point sure is obvious, why wouldn't it be? 
Static patterns are pretty static, that is they are
stable enough to stick around, some more than others,
obviously.  I guess that's why the old or ancient ways
of the earth with sky are old and ancient.  These ways
are staticly latched in very stable ways.  They'll be
around for a very long time.  As long as we notice dq,
these static patterns have the chance to change, and
there again, 'things change' that's ancient news, as
stable as it comes.

Thankfully we've moved on from some of those ancient stable patterns.

     [Platt]
> Relationships I can take, but talking driftwood is a
bit much.   

 [SA]
    What is building the relationships?  What makes
it a relationship?

We build and make relationships in our heads. We divide the world into 
parts, forget we divided it, then forget we forgot.

[SA]
 A relationship is a bridge.  What
is the bridge made of, what happens on the bridge, and
what should we call these relationships with all their
events, processes, and stable grounds that have us
call it a relationship and not say, for lack of better
word at this time - a divorce, a separation.  Talking
driftwood is just another way to stabilize ourselves
in the wood.  Making the wood familiar to us.  We talk
all the time, but what exactly is this talking?  I'm
serious.  Talking is an exchange, it has a process,
and meaning is given.  The meaning may change, which
is to say it depends on the conversation.  Wouldn't
the meaning involved in the relationship between wood
and a human being, change?  Could we ever simply
define what talking is?  I don't know if that's
possible.  Could we ever simply define what happens
between wood and us?  Hasn't the meaning or
relationship between human beings changed much
throughout time?  I believe it has.  People have
always known the earth and the trees are important,
but now a days science says without trees we can't
breath anymore.  Our very breath is trees.  Trees
aren't coming in and out of my mouth when I breath,
yet, that breath's existence depends on trees so much,
you might as well as say our breath is a tree. 
Science may point to particles, and those particles
are in outer space, and yet, I can't breath in outer
space.  I need those particles trees are and have to
give.  Those are tree particles.  I'm a tree particle
being.  I've got tree in me.  See how this becomes
cyclical.

You lost me.

     [Platt]
> You hear a lot more things than I do.

[SA] 
    You don't hear creeks?  You don't hear the wind?

I hear gurgle gurgle and woo woo, but I don't hear voices in the wind or 
creeks.

     [Platt]
> People who
> hear things that nobody
> else does are considered a bit daffy. No offense.
> Chalk it up to my tin
> ear. If the wood, wind and creeks speak to you, more
> power to you.

[SA] 
    What do you call the sounds of creeks and wind
passing through your ears?  Just sounds maybe. 

Yes, just sounds.

[SA]
Somebody from a foreign country would be just sounds
to me, if I think creeks and wind are just sounds. 
Yet, these sounds calm me, soothe me.  Something is
surely talking to me.  The wind and creek are striking
a chord.  Just like a drum or violin.  My heart and
spirit hear them and I'm struck.  They talk to me,
they have something to say that pleases me.  I get
happy, usually.

If nature talks to you, more power to you.

     [Platt]
> I wish
> the blank sheet of watercolor paper spoke to me. I
> tried to get it to say
> something this morning. Nothing. Maybe I'm not
> smoking the right stuff.

[SA]
   Maybe your breathing in too many paint fumes, and
that's saying, that says to me, oh, you're goin' get
dizzy.  Ha, Ha,
     
Watercolor paints don't give off fumes.

[SA]
That blank sheet of paper is saying something to
you.  It's saying, "I'm blank," which is the same as
saying your blank.  If I can't come up with anything,
then we're blank.  This whole world is blank.  Then I
notice some autumn colors, become inspired, they are
speaking to me, they are harmonizing with my heart. 
It's beautiful.

I just put my ear as close to a blank piece of watercolor paper as I could 
and heard absolutely nothing. Of course, I could pretend it said "I'm 
blank."  But if I told somebody, "Hey, the paper just talked to me," she 
would wonder if she ought to call the men with the white coats. No 
thanks. Been there, done that. 

Platt