I'm just gonna shoot the shit for a bit.

 

What a time to be alive. My mind races with a million thoughts, it's been ages, at least it feels like ages since my last write. Much has transpired since yet the same thoughts continue to race this infinite loop.

 

As of late the question that has plagued my mind is the true definition of the word or idea of "Quality".

It's nothing new, rather a philosophical corner stone.

What is Quality? Please define Quality.

 

Is quality something inherent to an object or thing? Or is Quality in the eye of the beholder?

Quality can't be measured in any scientific means so how do we know quality exists? I know we can't see for example Gravity or Oxygen but atleast we know the power and force of gravity to an extent and we know what molecules make oxygen, so is there say a molecule or particle that could be called Quality? I doubt it yet it exists. WE can all look at two things and say which is better, which has more quality but does it really?

 

Questions like this keep me up at night. In many ways it's a sad existance... being kept up by "Quality" but it's a kind of existence which could be considered....rightious?... no, maybejust a level of higher conciousness... no, would it be too bold as to say this life has "Quality"?

What would Nietzsche say? or Kierkegaard? Plato? Kant? Russell? Humbolt? Perhaps their existence in this era would have them all incapacitated, zombified by technological wonders or maybe minds like theirs are turly one of a kind... uncorruptible... like the untouchables.

 

There are so many things to comment on I can't put together a proper string of thought... with all the shit happening with Obama, the stimulis package, the economy... sigh... that's all I can say...sigh...

Sometimes I like to picture myself on the open road just me and the journey. A warm orange horizon in the distance marked by silhouettes of great oaks and pines, trees that have grown and have been watching, protecting the beauty and peace for generations before and for generations to come. I hear Jays and Robins chirp "Hello"  but only when I really listen otherwise the roar of my engine and growl of my exhaust scare the nature right out of them, like when a hunter fires a shot in a dense forrest and flocks of birds scatter to the air. I sit up straight taking it all in, one hand on the throttle the other resting on my gas tank. I'm keeping a good pace feeling the air rush over me and watching that which is nature do its thing. As all the beauty of the country envelopes me into a state of zen. I feel at peace. My mind no longer races with impossible to answer questions but rather the realization that zen is not a destination, it's not a state of mind either but something inherent, something which lays dormant within ones own... dare I say soul? One doesn't meditate to reach zen, some metaphysical higher plain of existence. Rather they reach for the zen inherent to their own existence, whether it be only an inkling or the buddha.

 

That's Quality.