Heathcliffe. Yes. That is surely the predominant account. Teilhard de Chardin is the decided “father of noosphere” theory and a well-meant theologian of the philosophical people, although there are those who would suggest if it does exist as more than (or even as) a mere notion that it preceded “he” by several minutes at least, and there are others who’d go as far as suggesting the bloom-essence of noospheric evolution has a purely feminine core origin, being the whole sum of our positive human consciousness all told conceived & condensed into a womblike gas bubble near-fully encompassing the globe...give or take a man-inspired tear (not tear) or two. Ozone layer. Nonetheless it’s a worthwhile consideration ..as it is a hopeful one ..that has the pure imagination station collaboration potential of withstanding these bleak & bleaker ages of man’s goofy proclivity for inhumanities towards its own (for how long now), in blatant opposition to Love’s connectivity. Mean, I suppose this is an acceptable peripheral thread topic for the David Baerwald Information Source innit?

Yeah.. Well f#@k it anyway..

Be so bold, Stark Raving affray, Mick on down the Shire Way, Heathcliffe reading poetry to his pretty bride while she play Hymne a L'Amour on piano again; allow me to chance this one more wordy dirge (requiem to a love song, if you will) in hopes of slightly better expressing my own imaginings about “noospheric” things..

‘Course I know((Gasho)) this takes up room that could otherwise be used for arguing semantics with trolls & other such non-veteran-war-warbling wormholes about failed poo-poo political shenanigans by perps & pundits alike that have long since availed themselves of any possible last reason for both our trusts or considerations beyond that of machinegunning guillotines &/or chainsaws a’blazin’ ..

How’bout a raisin?

Maybe a li’l too sappy for some o you more gravely trailblazers …but hey even the most cantankerous of us, after oh umpteen tipped glasses in the good or bad company of the obliteration of the ages, has that moment of mere hope that slightly softens up even the hardest of hip whores & road-warn saddle soars.

This is a kind of cosmic celebration of that…

Then I will leave the DBIS collective alone again to carry on its boundless apt hagglings over some such endless turf war (for whatever ancient intellectual modus operandi) and the sharing o’ some cool songs..

The Author (Semi-Liquid Id)

Enter in the fine points of Heavy Metal thought Of fervid expectations and of meanings never taught Of retrospective viewpoints & of giving where there’s not And of sensing every silence when the culmination . . . stops Our naked love could have us on the mend & not for naught From manufactured items built to weaken us when bought Behold Noospheric energies: Collective Consciousness Reflected in Aurora Borealis . . . encircling all of us The Author told a story: Through all gleanings come alive We, the People, moments, stasis, in a tome beside our minds

The time to tell . . . is tendered . . . for the story will unwind While we seed the moving pictures: Gathered Similes of Time In a word where there is story; growing question, asking: “Why?” Before the finer points of living . . . Every moment, Every cry For whom the bell will toll ..A Bridge Across Forever Wide NOT a shallow-minded concept but Galactic…Paradigm Sum-total of our comprehensive culture we combine Perceive: The Lady Matriarch . . . her Paladin K9

The Author, though said story is of no use to Some, Pens on …timeless sheets of thorough with affluent Ink of One..for the beauty o’ the loving & the hope Of everyone, & the daring Feats o’ giving...until time ...&..we..are done One random act o’ kindness: Then You pass it on . . . . . . . . .

(How far from the true noosphere does the sum total of All Human knowledge reside? @ the four corners o space? The seven directions..? The eight winds? Or the nine dimensions? Perhaps there..withinside..your..elusive..Shambhala?)

Every moment’s in your favor . . . if you laugh or if you cry If you mean it when you love them; if you even chance to try Ask the author —if we’re talking— and the author may reply If there’s time & place to wander there is time for you & I

The Author told a story: Through all gleanings come alive We, the People, moments, stasis, in a tome beside our minds

You are The Author .. Are The Author Are The Author .. Of All Time (You imagined all o’ this. & So do I)