Open with a confession. For whatever remnant of my childhood was remaining when Mr. Rogers was inviting us into his neighborhood I resisted. I was not fond of Mr. Rogers. It was not an active dislike, it was a meh sort of thing. I'd watch if there was nothing better. I would have just turned 16 when Mr. Rogers Nieghborhood debuted in 1962. That's no time to settle on any opinion of the world. Neurologically though that's sort of what's happening in the brain: world sculpting.
One of the best films made last year was A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood. Like so many critics my gut reaction was to avoid or risk tooth decay of the soul (or worse: diabetes). Early brave critics, like lifeguards on the shore of Cinema, proclaimed the water safe to enter.
Let me reveal further (don't want to bury the lead) that my interest in this ramble is not Fred Rogers but is intended as an exploration of what I mean when I write "meta." I found this film to be very meta and not really about Fred Rogers at all. Rogers is a McGuffin, the lure to engage you, distract you, while deeper magic is being done.
[Frustration! I had written much more this than what you above. I took a break to do some household tasks; when I returned to it all I had written was gone. This will test my mettle. When will I reconstruct?]
The vision is for Ongoingness; Life continuing on . . . .
Richard Valasek 1308 Ala Kapuna St. Apt 103
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and, if I do not save it, I do not save myself. —JOSÉ ORTEGA Y GASSET
I was born. I am always a vessel for something other than myself. The self is only a
vehicle for Foreign matter which comes from elsewhere and is destined to go on
elsewhere without me, whether it's words, smells, vision ––EMANUELE COCCIA Metamorphoses
Now, more than ever . . . our place in the universe and the place of the universe in us, is proving to be one of active relationship. That is more than a scientist's credo. The separateness of our lives is a sham. Physics, mathematics, music, painting, my love for you, my work, the star-dust of my body, the spirit that impels it, my politics, clocks diurnal, time perpetual, the roll, rough, tender, swamping, liberating, breathing, moving, thinking nature, human nature and the cosmos are patterned together.
—JEANETTE WINTERSON Gut Symmetries
What you do, what you become, is not my concern. –ROBERT MCCALL
"Don't immanentize the eschaton."