Ene
Active member
- Joined
- Aug 16, 2012
- Messages
- 3,574
- MBTI Type
- iNfj
- Enneagram
- 5w4
The following passage is written in present tense though it took place several hours ago....maybe I will do this with other functions. Maybe some of you will share your Se experiences, a snapshot of a moment.
.............................
It's 2 pm. I'm on the school playground. Children holler, chatter & squeal. Swings squeak. Still, separated from all this noise, I hear birds in the trees of a small wooded area some fifty yards away. I grin. How can I hear those birds? How can I hear all these sounds at once, each one both blending and distinguished? It doesn't matter how. I just hear them at the same time I smell the wood chips, scattered a foot deep, all over the playground, mulch to make it safer for the children. Funny how you can smell mulch. I nonchalantly walk along the low retainer wall, keeping my balance. It's not stone. It's some weird thick, black rubber that is slick and easy to slide off of, but I rarely slip or slide. Along the short wall a shadow is cast and the moldy ground never seems to dry.
A warm wind blows against my skin, through my lace top. It's supposed to be 88 degrees. Maybe it is, but the wind disguises the temperature. Above, cotton ball clouds skate across a brilliant blue sky. Every so often one passes the sun, bringing wonderful shade. When the sun is unclothed, I squint. The bright glare of the very air is blinding. I keep smelling something that is sweet and delicious to my nose. I recognize the scent, locusts. I look toward the woodlands but do not see the white blossoms, but they're there. I know that smell.
I don't think about tomorrow right now, nor yesterday, but I think about how I'm thinking about the moment and everything in it. I am still watching my students. They're good today, playing in little huddles of shade, not on the slides, but under them, except for those who are swinging.
There is an orange toad, a tiny toad, by the fence. I put him on the other side, after I show it to the children. They all want to touch it. I don't want any of them to accidentally step on him, so I move him.
I laugh. Suddenly the words...cognitive functions...enter my mind and I realize that this is Se at its finest, or is it? Why is it that it's so controllable? But if its controllable why do people over indulge? Or is it that I, too, am over-indulgent, not in food or drink or spending or sex or drugs or gambling, but in the sights, sounds and smells around me everyday? Is it the source of my impetuous streak, my adventuresome nature? I love the natural world and never am I more at home than when I am among it. Yet, I realize that all I see is temporary and passing, a brief moment, in an endless cycle.
Thirty minutes have passed. Time flies when you're caught up in the moment or maybe it just becomes irrelevant, but at any rate, if I don't take the kids in, they'll miss their buses. I blow my whistle, signaling for them to line up at the gate.
As we trek back across the school grounds I fight the urge to go running down the steep hillside, across the fifty yards and into the woods. I'd like to explore those woods.
.............................
It's 2 pm. I'm on the school playground. Children holler, chatter & squeal. Swings squeak. Still, separated from all this noise, I hear birds in the trees of a small wooded area some fifty yards away. I grin. How can I hear those birds? How can I hear all these sounds at once, each one both blending and distinguished? It doesn't matter how. I just hear them at the same time I smell the wood chips, scattered a foot deep, all over the playground, mulch to make it safer for the children. Funny how you can smell mulch. I nonchalantly walk along the low retainer wall, keeping my balance. It's not stone. It's some weird thick, black rubber that is slick and easy to slide off of, but I rarely slip or slide. Along the short wall a shadow is cast and the moldy ground never seems to dry.
A warm wind blows against my skin, through my lace top. It's supposed to be 88 degrees. Maybe it is, but the wind disguises the temperature. Above, cotton ball clouds skate across a brilliant blue sky. Every so often one passes the sun, bringing wonderful shade. When the sun is unclothed, I squint. The bright glare of the very air is blinding. I keep smelling something that is sweet and delicious to my nose. I recognize the scent, locusts. I look toward the woodlands but do not see the white blossoms, but they're there. I know that smell.
I don't think about tomorrow right now, nor yesterday, but I think about how I'm thinking about the moment and everything in it. I am still watching my students. They're good today, playing in little huddles of shade, not on the slides, but under them, except for those who are swinging.
There is an orange toad, a tiny toad, by the fence. I put him on the other side, after I show it to the children. They all want to touch it. I don't want any of them to accidentally step on him, so I move him.
I laugh. Suddenly the words...cognitive functions...enter my mind and I realize that this is Se at its finest, or is it? Why is it that it's so controllable? But if its controllable why do people over indulge? Or is it that I, too, am over-indulgent, not in food or drink or spending or sex or drugs or gambling, but in the sights, sounds and smells around me everyday? Is it the source of my impetuous streak, my adventuresome nature? I love the natural world and never am I more at home than when I am among it. Yet, I realize that all I see is temporary and passing, a brief moment, in an endless cycle.
Thirty minutes have passed. Time flies when you're caught up in the moment or maybe it just becomes irrelevant, but at any rate, if I don't take the kids in, they'll miss their buses. I blow my whistle, signaling for them to line up at the gate.
As we trek back across the school grounds I fight the urge to go running down the steep hillside, across the fifty yards and into the woods. I'd like to explore those woods.