Introduction

WELCOME! I've been cycling through the Southeast Valleys of Wales since 2010 and I can't say (or show) enough about the place. I just love it. So if you've got the interest and would like to spend some time... sit back and let me show you some of the fabulous places I've discovered.

Wednesday, 17 May 2017

BLOGGING 
Zen Master



"... some things are better than others, that is, they have more quality, but when you try to say what the quality is, apart from the things that have it, it all goes poof! There's nothing to talk about. But if you can't say what Quality is, how do you know what it is, or how do you know that it even exists? If no one knows what it is, then for all practical purposes it doesn't exist at all. But for all practical purposes it really does exist." - Robert M. Pirsig

I first read "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" in my early twenties while failing miserably in architecture school. The book completely fucked with my head and put another high velocity kick into my already spinning confusion about what the hell I was doing with my life. And I loved it.

I know enough philosophy to get me in trouble. That is, I've read quite a bit... took some courses in college covering the classical Greek thinkers, read a bit of existential crap and other European hoohaa, and then I was raised as a confused Presbyterian in a little Southern redneck town. So, I know as much as anyone and everyone.

Persig died today. And though I haven't read the book in years, I can honestly say that I carry it with me in my thoughts every day. To say that the book had a profound impact on me is to put it mildly. I've returned to the damn thing several times; especially while dealing with the knuckleheads in grad school. Its critical analysis on life has been a tool I employ to this day. (Case in point; "What the fuck do the Brits mean when they say 'proper'?")

So I'm saddened by this news. But perhaps some folks unfamiliar with the novel will pick up this philosophical-tome and they too will receive a great deal of comfort from the rational thinking on an irrational world. It's fucking quality.

- Rasputin Crankshaw