Birthday Wish

In which Carrie isn’t too old to dream big dreams…

I celebrate myself,

And what I assume you shall assume,

For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

-Walt Whitman

August 23rd is my favorite holiday, and this year it falls on a Thursday.  I mention this in a complete state of sentimentalism because all that I want to do on this date is spend it camping Socrates Cafe style with you.  We’ve done it before, two years ago, and I count it among one of the best times in my life.

We will be there, where ever there is.  Circling our campfire will be an assortment of what I have long called Philosopher’s Chairs; they are about seven dollars in stores and have holes cut in the arms for beverages, and most people take them on camping adventures.  We should have plenty of those, and wood for the fire.  Also hotdogs.  The tofu kind.  And lots of food besides.

Someone will bring a library, but I will bring some books too.  Reference materials on history, the arts, sciences, topography, cooking, dictionaries.  Any of it has philosophical value.  The books can be our friends during this time, as they are wont to be.

You will arrive in your car and immediately begin unpacking.  Only each movement you make, each object you remove serves both an objective purpose and can be seen as an artifact of curiosity.  Even setting up your tent will raise some questions.  Each of your habitual acts will somehow be removed, because you are removed.  You and I will make meaningful eye contact at some point…because we know how good this is.

The fire will be constructed for Prometheus, and us.  His glow will alight on our faces and show our tongues move in eloquent speech.  And another will take a turn.  We will listen to you.  And you.  The outside noises will abate through our concentration.  We’ll shudder at the possabilities of piercing reality.  Our own realities will be questioned.  And questioned.

And only when we have found the truth of the matter, at around four in the morning, will we hunch down and unzip the flap.  Then, satisfied at our world making and honest efforts, will we crawl into the soft shell of a home and nestle in our downy sleeping bags with our heads so near the earth.  Grounded.

And it is because I love you all that I want to share this with you.





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