Without Memory or Desire

Once upon a time, there live a man who wrote about the complexities of being human. He lived many years and treated the wounded in Wars .... there were, as there were in those days, too many wounded by a growing and perfecting arsenal of weaponry and, so, he began treating them in groups. He compared the human mind to the excavations that had been done at Ur .... by Monty, I think, one of the early scientific archaeologists. Some may not know that archaeology (the study of finding 'the old') like Freud's archaeological digs of the mind, is a young Science. Before last Century (the 20th, that is), archaeology was -- more or less -- grave-robbing ... stealing and marketing purloined antiquities to the British Museum and its many cousins. But back to the man ... his name was Bion ... I suppose his followers are Bionic Men and Women .,... and he was prone to say that when you approach the mysteries of another's mind, the best way in is to bring with you 'neither memory nor desire.' _______________________________ The Last Quarter brought me cardiac arrhythmias ... wild rides into the unexpectable. Our youthful hearts and the predictable rising and falling of the number of beats our hearts take in every minute determine a no-longer quite rememberable regularity of life. Each series of beats moves blood from chamber to chamber ... about 60% each time. If that drops much lower due to a weakening of the heart muscle ... our little squee zer ... indeed, our 'main squeeze' ... we are in what the young docs call heart failure. For years, I would run and get my heart rate up from its resting rate somewhere below 40 bpm (beats per minute ... da-dum-da-dum-da-dum) up to 180 or so. Now, I don't have to run ... and betimes sitting still (dammit! Still my heart!) my rhr (resting heart rate) will go off merrily on its own ... up over 200, down to 35 ... over hill and dale. ------------------- During these times (like right now) I finally attain Bion's state of, at least, limited memory ... and, frankly, the Girl from Ipinima could go walking by ... and just keep walking. ................. Ah! The Pleasures of Playing (or trying to play) in the Last Quarter. ______________________________ Think I'll rest a bit. Adios! Back, soon!