NOTE: I actually wrote this
yesterday, I guess that I forgot to send it.
<The Raven of Texas marches in to
his nest, his feathers dripping wet from washing a million and a half cars,
dusty from surveying a million and a half construction sites. Wearily, slowly,
he types in the procedure for the receipt of electronic mail. He finds that only
5 messages were posted on the list during the entire day, 4 of which are from
Ewa. He shakes his head in incredulity and begins to type his
response...>
Well, you didn't out-do my ability
to call it something like a trilogy just by making 4 this time - 'tis now a
tetrad. Ya see, Ewa, if there's a word for it in the English language, I'll
either A) know it, B) find it pray quickly, or C) make one up using creative
manipulations of Latin and Old English.
Based on my definition of reality,
no, the soul is not real, however I do maintain a basic concept of what it "is"
strictly for poetic and literary use. For instance, in what must be my favorite
song (Creed's "Torn"), one of the most powerful lines is "The peace is dead in
my soul." Now, even though I do not believe in the existence of a soul, I still
use the word in this capacity, because there is no other word that can quite
express what is meant by "soul" in that line.
Animals must have intelligence, if
we define it my way (as in the Latin, inter-legere, betwixt-read, ergo "reading
betwixt the lines", all rights reserved, copyright 2001 Jackson Crawford and the
Corvist Association for the Preservation and Perpetuation of Free Will, lol,
take that!), because ravens demonstrate it quite expressly. Let me tell of an
experiment - a man who I know to be quite expert on the subject once placed
several crows (crows, not ravens) in an aviary where, tied to perches by lengths
of string, were small pieces of meat. To quote, the [crows] "grasped the strings
with their beaks and lifted as high as they could but never figured out how to
bring the meat within reach." Then he replaced the crows with ravens. To quote,
the [ravens] "pulled up a length of string, stood on it, pulled up another
length, stood on that, and so on until they reached the prize." He went so far
as to call it "insight" (all rights to the aforementioned word reserved,
copyright 2001 Jackson Crawford and the Corvist Association for the Preservation
and Perpetuation of Free Will)
What a strange way of putting it,
"control thyself." I mean, yeah, don't let any one else control you,
lol...
"Stuff happenened" because the
processes were there for it to happen. Seems obvious enough to
me.
I can't think of much to say about
the rest of what you wrote, but here's a little something pulled from the
introduction to my latest work, "Desultory: A Collection of Early Corvist
Essays" -
Demons within, demons
without;If
I never let them in, how can I ever let them out?
Słodkich
snów,
Jackson Wade Crawford - the Raven of Texas/ Corvvs Texanis/ Kruk
Teksasu/ der Rabe von Texas
International Director, Corvist Association for
the Preservation and Perpetuation of Free Will