Path-ing - A practical observation.

[Meem]

So earlier today I was in the backyard with the dogs. The younger one in particular had my attention. She has a toy that she likes more than others, to which she enjoys to play tug-o-war and fetch with. In the back yard, if one looks, there a several paths tread into the grass by the dogs. Some more "beaten," some more this way and that ... than others.

What struck me as funny, I noticed when I would throw the toy, she would take the shortest route possible to get it, as fast she possibly could. The more interesting thing to me was, on the return trot with her eyes set to me, it seemed as if she had a built-it guidance system that would put her on the path without her (seemingly) making an effort to do so.

Now, this didn't always hold quite true. If the toy was thrown into an area without a "near-by" path, she would come straight back. However, if the toy was thrown near the beaten path, she seemed to "suffer" it's gravitational effects.

It kind of made me think about how people "work." You can throw a "treat" out there for someone to retrieve. Most people want to find the treat as quickly as the possibly can. If the treat is thrown off or away from the beaten path, it will be found in "the rough." And if the treat is thrown near the path, it will draw them in, and if not ...

Some people will just ... "go their own way."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q_Xxj...eature=related

[labelwench]

It kind of made me think about how people "work." You can throw a "treat" out there for someone to retrieve. Most people want to find the treat as quickly as the possibly can. If the treat is thrown off or away from the beaten path, it will be found in "the rough." And if the treat is thrown near the path, it will draw them in, and if not ...

Some people will just ... "go their own way."

Originally posted by Meem.

All new thread starts are 'treats' with potential, and I find it interesting to note how many people view a thread, who responds, and the course of the journey.

Some threads take on a life you could not anticipate, others don't go anywhere, still others flare up like a brushfire, die back to embers, and kindle yet again when a fresh breeze blows or someone new stirs the ashes.

So, Meem, what direction are you interested in weaving this thread you have started?

I shall give some more thought to it's potential at work this night, my task being to restructure a 20' wall of pasta sauces to better utilize the shelf space, and maximize our holding capacity for the more popular brands. My potential for bringing a semblance of order enjoys such physical expression, as I am allowed to work on a long rein, and the end result remains for myself and others to appreciate, long after the initial out put of energy.

Oh yes, as regards your dogs in the grass and the paths, I suspect the direct retrieve is an expression of exuberance, while the return may be precipitated by conservation of energy, and how soon the dog desires to re-engage, among other possibilities.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVCZpPBbgYw

Regards,

Labelwench

[labelwench]

The Road Not Taken

by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

And indeed, the woods are fast becoming yellow, autumn is in the air....

[Graybeard]

And indeed, the woods are fast becoming yellow, autumn is in the air....

Depends on where you see the centre of the world .... here spring is just arriving ....

cool bananas ... greg

[labelwench]

Walking through the boreal forest, one will notice many paths, established by wildlife. Each species establishes paths suited to it’s own needs, and depending upon the terrain and the proximity to water, these paths begin to merge into trails as more species choose to follow the established path, rather than make another of their own.

One might consider this the path of least resistance or the path that requires the least investment of personal energy, as most species choose to conserve energy wherever and whenever possible. Ostentatious display of energy without regard to energy expended can be a characteristic of play, mate attraction, or otherwise induced, but that’s another topic….

Do the external paths we select , reflect or mirror the internal or neurological pathways in our mind?

Just what other factors, external and internal, determine our path-ings?

[Meem]

There are so many things to consider, so many paths one could ing. Perhaps, it could depend on the weather. I saw a weatherman making fun of computer models the other day because the meteorological team made an opposing projection, and turned out right. Input is critical in terms of out put, far as I can tell. Some people deal with some factors better than others etc. What would be the point if we were all the exactly same? Many paths, one mountain.

There would be no path for a species could take if one had not first been the trail blazer to follow, that first "mutation." "How many paths must a man walk down?" Would the same concept apply to a dog or horse? Doesn't seem to matter, for them does it?

And to answer the question, I'd rather watch this thread weave itself without me. But I do feel a need to pop in from time to time. After-all, it's good to put your feet on solid ground from time to time.

[labelwench]

A descriptive poem of path-ings, both physical, and psychological, thereby appropriate for this thread, and in a broader sense, this forum. LW

The Ballad of East and West

Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat;
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face,
tho' they come from the ends of the earth!

Kamal is out with twenty men to raise the Border-side,
And he has lifted the Colonel's mare that is the Colonel's pride:
He has lifted her out of the stable-door between the dawn and the day,
And turned the calkins upon her feet, and ridden her far away.
Then up and spoke the Colonel's son that led a troop of the Guides:
"Is there never a man of all my men can say where Kamal hides?"
Then up and spoke Mahommed Khan, the son of the Ressaldar:
"If ye know the track of the morning-mist, ye know where his pickets are.
At dusk he harries the Abazai -- at dawn he is into Bonair,
But he must go by Fort Bukloh to his own place to fare,
So if ye gallop to Fort Bukloh as fast as a bird can fly,
By the favour of God ye may cut him off ere he win to the Tongue of Jagai.
But if he be past the Tongue of Jagai, right swiftly turn ye then,
For the length and the breadth of that grisly plain is sown with Kamal's men.
There is rock to the left, and rock to the right, and low lean thorn between,
And ye may hear a breech-bolt snick where never a man is seen."
The Colonel's son has taken a horse, and a raw rough dun was he,
With the mouth of a bell and the heart of Hell
and the head of the gallows-tree.
The Colonel's son to the Fort has won, they bid him stay to eat --
Who rides at the tail of a Border thief, he sits not long at his meat.
He's up and away from Fort Bukloh as fast as he can fly,
Till he was aware of his father's mare in the gut of the Tongue of Jagai,
Till he was aware of his father's mare with Kamal upon her back,
And when he could spy the white of her eye, he made the pistol crack.
He has fired once, he has fired twice, but the whistling ball went wide.
"Ye shoot like a soldier," Kamal said. "Show now if ye can ride."
It's up and over the Tongue of Jagai, as blown dustdevils go,
The dun he fled like a stag of ten, but the mare like a barren doe.
The dun he leaned against the bit and slugged his head above,
But the red mare played with the snaffle-bars, as a maiden plays with a glove.
There was rock to the left and rock to the right, and low lean thorn between,
And thrice he heard a breech-bolt snick tho' never a man was seen.
They have ridden the low moon out of the sky, their hoofs drum up the dawn,
The dun he went like a wounded bull, but the mare like a new-roused fawn.
The dun he fell at a water-course -- in a woful heap fell he,
And Kamal has turned the red mare back, and pulled the rider free.
He has knocked the pistol out of his hand -- small room was there to strive,
"'Twas only by favour of mine," quoth he, "ye rode so long alive:
There was not a rock for twenty mile, there was not a clump of tree,
But covered a man of my own men with his rifle cocked on his knee.
If I had raised my bridle-hand, as I have held it low,
The little jackals that flee so fast were feasting all in a row:
If I had bowed my head on my breast, as I have held it high,
The kite that whistles above us now were gorged till she could not fly."
Lightly answered the Colonel's son: "Do good to bird and beast,
But count who come for the broken meats before thou makest a feast.
If there should follow a thousand swords to carry my bones away,
Belike the price of a jackal's meal were more than a thief could pay.
They will feed their horse on the standing crop,
their men on the garnered grain,
The thatch of the byres will serve their fires when all the cattle are slain.
But if thou thinkest the price be fair, -- thy brethren wait to sup,
The hound is kin to the jackal-spawn, -- howl, dog, and call them up!
And if thou thinkest the price be high, in steer and gear and stack,
Give me my father's mare again, and I'll fight my own way back!"
Kamal has gripped him by the hand and set him upon his feet.
"No talk shall be of dogs," said he, "when wolf and gray wolf meet.
May I eat dirt if thou hast hurt of me in deed or breath;
What dam of lances brought thee forth to jest at the dawn with Death?"
Lightly answered the Colonel's son: "I hold by the blood of my clan:
Take up the mare for my father's gift -- by God, she has carried a man!"
The red mare ran to the Colonel's son, and nuzzled against his breast;
"We be two strong men," said Kamal then, "but she loveth the younger best.
So she shall go with a lifter's dower, my turquoise-studded rein,
My broidered saddle and saddle-cloth, and silver stirrups twain."
The Colonel's son a pistol drew and held it muzzle-end,
"Ye have taken the one from a foe," said he;
"will ye take the mate from a friend?"
"A gift for a gift," said Kamal straight; "a limb for the risk of a limb.
Thy father has sent his son to me, I'll send my son to him!"
With that he whistled his only son, that dropped from a mountain-crest --
He trod the ling like a buck in spring, and he looked like a lance in rest.
"Now here is thy master," Kamal said, "who leads a troop of the Guides,
And thou must ride at his left side as shield on shoulder rides.
Till Death or I cut loose the tie, at camp and board and bed,
Thy life is his -- thy fate it is to guard him with thy head.
So, thou must eat the White Queen's meat, and all her foes are thine,
And thou must harry thy father's hold for the peace of the Border-line,
And thou must make a trooper tough and hack thy way to power --
Belike they will raise thee to Ressaldar when I am hanged in Peshawur."

They have looked each other between the eyes, and there they found no fault,
They have taken the Oath of the Brother-in-Blood on leavened bread and salt:
They have taken the Oath of the Brother-in-Blood on fire and fresh-cut sod,
On the hilt and the haft of the Khyber knife, and the Wondrous Names of God.
The Colonel's son he rides the mare and Kamal's boy the dun,
And two have come back to Fort Bukloh where there went forth but one.
And when they drew to the Quarter-Guard, full twenty swords flew clear --
There was not a man but carried his feud with the blood of the mountaineer.
"Ha' done! ha' done!" said the Colonel's son.
"Put up the steel at your sides!
Last night ye had struck at a Border thief --
to-night 'tis a man of the Guides!"

Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat;
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face,
tho' they come from the ends of the earth!

-- Rudyard Kipling




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[labelwench]

Perhaps the paths choose us.

Although I have ever been one to make a plan and see it through, often I have been distracted, diverted or caused to detour, for a time, from my intended direction.

Years ago, I used to resist any efforts that threatened to thwart my plans. There are usually alternatives, and I would try them all.

Sometimes the alternative would turn out to be a better option than the original plan.

On a few occasions, I have had to conceed defeat.

In retrospect, ceasing the course of action was the best decision.

Upon acceptance of the situation, before long, an opportunity or new path presented, and I would have missed same, entirely, had I been successfully moving on my planned path.

I still make plans, but no longer do I fret when things start to become less predictable. The journey is far more interesting with a few "unknowns"...

[labelwench]

'How many roads must a man walk down......'

Peter, Paul and Mary - Blowin' In The Wind

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3t4g_1VoGw4