A drill is an ingenious device which converts electrical energy into mechanical. In doing so it is able to transform the default process of creating holes or crevices in objects into a relatively simple task (at least from the user's perspective).
Also context. Without it, the majority of things written by one individual for another make absolutely no sense what so ever. For instance the stuff I'm typing right now. Where did the notion of power drills come from? Twitter actually. Which isn't to say you were ever meant to know what I was saying, but you thought you would be smart and learn did you not?
And likewise when my tweets get retweeted at random. What do people think of it? Do they understand the notions behind the words I've carried? Do they have the slightest clue what in tarnations I have thusly communicated? Probably not.
But it's interesting; because the lack of context sometimes adds to the greatest points of being. Because not being able to know the meaning of something frees the mind to wander. And in doing so, the wanderer is able to relive his own meaning.
Now for instance if I should scream loudly in a voice not my own the words: "Mary, Mary." It would not be unbelievable to suspect that one's mind was being addled into saying the first thing to pop. However in my case I do have a specific that I'm thinking of.
In this instance I am referencing the ancient nursey rhyme that followed: "Mary, Mary; quite contrary. How does your garden grow?" "With silver bells and cockle shells. And pretty maids all in a row." To which I suspect most rhymes from that age bygone were used more as a means of aiding children gain a grasp on the use of words rather than any real meaning. Unlike other rhymes that are still in existence, this one really does seem to be pure nonsense.
And if I was to stay on the random tangent that I have thus initiated; I would make note that my mind has jumped to the weighing of the heart. Well no, not a physical heart per say. But rather a spiritual one. In the Egyptian book of the dead; there is a passage referencing the judgement after one's death.
It's in this arc that my mind has jumped. For Ma'at would cast her eternal gaze upon a brilliant set of scales. On one side lies the heart of the deceased and on the other the feather of truth. Should the heart weigh too much (in so be burdened by what can be thought of as sin), the unbalance will cause the muscle to fall into the jaws of the might Ammit. And the one would simply cease to exist. It's interesting to consider that factor, no? To have every memory and value, every hope and wish consumed. There would be no punishment for the wicked, so full of desperation and deprivaty as to be lost within the cataclysm of the jaws of the beast.
No comments:
Post a Comment