On Chewing The Conventional Cud And Living A Blueprint

Summary

The text is a contemplative reflection on the futility of living a pre-determined life, advocating for the abolition of institutionalized education and the embrace of a more instinctual, experience-based existence aligned with nature.

Abstract

The article, titled "On Chewing The Conventional Cud And Living A Blueprint," uses free verse to critique the conventional life path, likening it to a treacherous trench. It suggests that life should not be emulated from others but rather crafted individually. The piece argues that schools, as they currently exist, are oppressive institutions that stifle creativity and are disliked by students. It posits that true learning comes from experience, not from the structured environment of schools, which primarily benefit from collecting fees. The author draws a parallel between the contented life of a buffalo, which lives without the constraints of societal expectations, and the human struggle with convention. The text emphasizes that animals, unlike humans, live symbiotically with the earth without formal education, questioning whether humans have truly learned from nature. The author concludes by urging readers to break free from the soft chains of convention to avoid a life wasted on trivial concerns.

Opinions

The author believes that the conventional life path, or "living a blueprint," is a treacherous approach to life that suppresses individuality.
Schools are viewed as depressing, prison-like environments that hinder creative growth and are more focused on financial gain than on true education.
The author suggests that the buffalo, a creature that lives instinctually and without formal education, symbolizes a more authentic way of living.
There is a critique of how humans have failed to learn from the natural world, particularly from animals and birds that live in harmony with the earth.
The text conveys a strong opinion against the idea of institutionalized education, advocating for its abolition.
The author emphasizes the vanity of human pursuits compared to the instinctual and symbiotic existence of animals.
The piece encourages readers to reject societal norms and the pursuit of conventional accomplishments, as they ultimately do not matter.

Ruminations on life using free verse…

Treasures galore, the world is forged for dilettantish pursuits.

Dabble on, consume, be consumed, or lose than fall …into a quagmire of choreographed chores and commitments.

Life, as suggested to be lived, is a treacherous trench. Would you deign to live a blueprint? This? Whose? Make it yours, will you? No one has ever lived a life worthy of emulation. Stop aping the past.

Abolish chores!

Education is sham institutionalized. Schools are depressing, Veritable prisons worthy of their misanthropist schemers, Where inmates are edified out of their creative capacities. Who has ever loved school?

A child doesn't belong there. Learning (Who said anything about learning?) ensues from experience and assimilation, and Schools take the fees.

Let schools be abolished.

How many things there are, to live for! (Words, to name a few)

The buffalo (why not?!), with its pretty, gleamy, and dreamy eyes — Its gaze set particularly nowhere, lies watching, undistracted by the world scurrying about. It knows, it is all-knowing, of the vanity of the world, Eyes people with sympathy, their pompous I’s and puerile pugnacity. Wild horses cannot drag it to school. Nary a chore in a contended life. Know anyone that had any beef with a buffalo?

What have we learned of animals and birds? Have we learned at all?

The custodians of the earth — They mate and eat on instinct, Have the earth — running, and capable of supporting life. Cannibalistic traits uncommon, Live in a symbiotic relationship with every living thing, Never went to school or lived a planned life, Build nests to breed and abandon when done.

But, Have we learned?

You wished for a thousand things, shackled to inaction by soft, silken threads of convention, Constantly think — of bettering — in futile pursuit of which, you forget to be, to finally realize — Life slipped along Time — its incessant flow Washing away the prosodic colors While you ministered to artless, prosaic concerns.

No accomplishments? Nobody cares!

The buffalo, with pretty and sagacious eyes, lies ruminating.

It knows an inside joke about the cud that people bequeath their progeny to masticate.