Being and Beingness

Or, as I heard on "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" earlier today, in a Stephen Colbert clip, in which he imitates an art critic: "...the whereness and the whatness..."

It is a good question. In the days and nights of the unemployed and the discombobulated, there is little more than whereness, whatness and beingness. Forget moneyness. Or stabilitas. I mean, stabiliness.

I have an interview tomorrow at a big paper that came to me when I least expected it. I'm starting to feel like a cat--I fall from great heights but always land on my feet. (Someone remind me I said this on a bad day, please.) I've considered deleting that last thought, but have decided to keep it for posterity. Once, right here, I felt optimistic. (Forgive me, fellow irritables.)

Watching a program about a team of scientists exploring a 300-foot abyss in the Amazon. How do you do anything else after you have seen species no one has ever seen before? I mean, what feels satisfying after that? They are filming disgusting, wriggly eel-like fish. Personally, I find them disgusting. But watching these funny Brits marvel about their beauty is inspiring. (Whatness? Whereness? Who is this semi-positivist?)

How do you then walk away from something so marvelous?
How do you know if you will ever find it again?
I guess we're supposed to feel lucky for ever having come close to beauty, yes?
Not satisfying. How can it feel satisfying to come up for air, instead of desperate?

Then again, here is what the diver just said, describing the wriggly fish eating the huge bait fish he had in front of him, in the abyss:

"Yes, I would say they are eating it from the inside out!"

But he was just so excited.