Bug Dancing

IT’S LATE AFTERNOON AND THE SUN IS SLINKING BEHIND THE MOUNTAINS.  Purple and green-black are the dominant colors beneath the sky.  But against the last slanting light dance a ballet corps of flying things.  Some are of impossible design making you wonder about the richness of our world.  Others are standard fluttering, hovering creatures ( bugs if you wish ) who are doing some last dance before the cold makes them cease.
       Is this dance of celebration?  Is it a last desperate mating ritual  to assure that next year the dance will resume, only with different players?
    I love this dance and watch until the sun is gone and the small creatures settle in the field.  What is their life span?  Will I see them tomorrow or not.  The question in itself is unimportant. I want no Faustian bargain.
     It gets cold fast without the sun, and I retreat inside.
Post Modernism. I’m back at my old shibboleth; can’t seem to let it go.  I guess I’m looking for easy answers to the plight I see worldwide.  If there are no answers to why and how we got to where we are  ----  70 plus armed conflicts right now, two nasty wars,  70% of earth’s population in poverty, global warming exacerbated by our species ----then we might as well just continue on our path.  Nothing to stop us.  At least that seems to be what post modernism means to me.  A culture that sees no moral absolutes, an anything goes philosophy, a get- it- while- you- can approach.  I’m being simplistic, but a head-long dash to self aggrandizement whether it be politicians, business  people, lawyers,  or just anyone who plays a zero sum game and sees no fault in that is playing a fool’s hand in a fool’s game.  For our species, it might be terminal.
That’s why I take pleasure in bug dancing.   Hint: look up modernism and post modernism on Wikipedia.  Look up Milton Friedman ( he had it wrong ) and J.K. Galbraith (he had it right ).
Not many people read my blog, so I can skate out onto this thin lake covering without too much worry.