familiar lament

'twas but a decade ago that we were six. these days we scrape together but half of that number. it isn't surprising considering that the dog passed away, and that children have mostly flown the nest... but that's why my thoughts are left unuttered, confined to a bunch of 0s and 1s somewhere on a server in a far away land.
we all imagine our lives in the future. more or less detailed but there is some image. but what happens to the details? could i imagine five years ago that in the year 2008 the family dinner would be my parents and me? perhaps this isn't that surprising and i only longed for my childhood dinners when i'd run home from school in order to sit down at a full table, every day at 7 o'clock... even with the usual quarrel that ended the evening.
as my life took me other places, the idea of that meal, that company was always present. even when i moved away my day would stop at 7 sharp, like when the siren's went of at 3.15 p.m. on may 7th when i was a kid... the day stopped and restarted at 7. and i thought of my family.
nowadays dinner is usually takeaway in front of the television, during a break from work. half the family lives abroad, and it seems that this number will increase in the next twelve months. even holidays aren't the same - it's just too unlikely that we will all manage to get home. and home is redefined. my home has been a backpack (metaphorically and occasionally literally) for months. i'm not tied down by any place, as long as i have a roof over my head at the end of the day and a place to charge my batteries. this doesn't mean that i've physically strayed far, but in my mind i can be anywhere (which i am often, perhaps too often). but in the back of my head there is that classic romanticized idea of the parental home, the fireplace that is always there in the winter, the light in the window at night...
so after the last episode a few days ago, when we managed to get together (missing only one), but didn't even share a meal, and with the vision of what should/could be but in a year, i find my self with the urge to sigh, but at the last moment i choose to hold it back. "this is the way it's supposed to be..."

barton fink and camera shopping...

the discussion boils within the cerebellum, which occasionally requires letting off steam. one way is that nice stretch of path that runs up the river from my building, another is meditating with camera in hand.
there's several things you can leave behind you when you go. i guess the most primitive one is to indulge that primitive instinct called proliferation, but we call it having children. this is that holiest of holies - the crown jewel in the existence of the family (wo)man. you leave your genes on earth, proving that you are a success - at least as far as darwin is concerned. then there's the material - leaving behind riches beyond your needs. here we can mathematically calculate and measure. did you create more in your life than you spent? that is, provided that you are not a christian believer and thus dismiss that
man is able to create, but rather process and amass. do we need to create more than we need? do we define ourselves using such measures? and thirdly there is that creativity that is truly our own - the genuine artistic effort, our thoughts embodied in various shapes and forms, which will possibly outlive our time on earth.
so the next great question is - what is the priority among these? unfortunately debating the issue only leads to new questions, that is if you ever get to the debated issue in the first place. technical existence is a bore. talking about earthly things is just a matter of finding the solution that is right for us to survive, but it cannot be all there is. it's exactly the same with question of whether there is a god or aliens - it just wouldn't make sense if this what we was was all there is. and perhaps by spending time and energy contemplating and discussing metaphysics, but as individuals, parts of the global system called humanity - don't we know too much about the models of cameras and effects of alcohol, and not enough about our true creative and contemplative potential.