We begin my book, The Birth of Tippy Gnu, with the Preface. Every few days following this will be a new installment, as we progress deeper and deeper into the book.
The Birth of Tippy Gnu:
Preface
From a young age, my megalomaniacal ego urged me to write my autobiography. But my pride in my humility always resisted this urge. The two forces battled it out for decades, but finally pride lost. One day I caved into my ego, faced my keyboard, rubbed my hands together, cackling like a madman, and commenced typing.
I didn’t get far. For the life of me, I could not get past the time of my birth. I kept drawing a blank. But I persevered, and finally managed to conjure up some memories. These were the highlights of my life. My achievments. But as I pondered these highlights, I felt a powerful lethargy dragging me under. I couldn’t stop yawning. And eventually I succumbed to a deep sleep.
Over and over, day after day, I repeated this exercise of reviewing the highlights of my life, only to find myself face first on top of my keyboard, with drool shorting out the circuits beneath.
I learned to buy cheaper and cheaper replacement keyboards. But I couldn’t figure out how to prevent losing consciousness, and over time even these cheap keyboards put a strain on my wallet. Finally one day, as I was chucking a fried keyboard into the trash, the truth hit me. I realized I had no interest in the highlights of my life. I was literally boring myself to death.
It occurred to me that what I was most interested in was not the things that happened after I was born, but rather, the events prior to birth.
I felt much more excited about what happened before I exited the womb, than after. Because it seemed to me that one cannot understand the after until one becomes acquainted with the before. The before explains it all. And then there’s no need to discuss the after, and all the monotonous details.
All anybody needs, to understand my life, is to know what was going on with me before I arrived in this world. Before my birth. Before the water broke. Before each trimester. And even before conception. That is where the foundation lies. And the grand design. The blueprint. That is what makes me, me.
Therefore, this autobiography of Tippy Gnu is about the birth of Tippy Gnu. It’s about what happened before birth, during, and immediately after. It does not concern itself with the details of my childhood, my schooling, my romances, my various careers, nor any other folderol I may have involved myself in as a human bean.
After the reader learns about my birth, the reader will know as much about me as the reader will need to know.
Birth is the creation of human life. It’s as much a spiritual event as it is biological. The two are intertwined, at first loosely, but gradually more and more tightly, like a spool of string reeling in a kite. In this autobiography, I’ll provide the spiritual details. But I’ll also throw in some biological minutia, for your scientific curiosity. For the former, I spent my research time in meditative reflection. For the latter, I researched on the internet.
I’ll take the reader through the biological stages of human gestation, from conception all the way to parturition. And I’ll throw my soul, my spirit, the very heart of me, into these stages, and show how they affected my inner core. That is how the reader will learn about me. That is how the reader will come to understand my true essence.
So now, let’s go back. Way back. Back to when I was not thought about in this world, nor ever had been. To a time when Earth had been spinning along on its wobbly orbit quite well without me for over four billion years. To a time before conception, when I was but a twinkle in my happy-go-lucky father’s eye. For that is where my story starts.
That is the true beginning.
Come on back in a few days for that true beginning, when I’ll post Conception: Introduction to The Birth of Tippy Gnu.
Categories: Series (Family): The Birth of Tippy Gnu
I am not sure that I have ever had a twinkle in my eye, but they must exist since you were once one.
Sometimes I think about how long it will be after you are dead before once again the world knows not that you ever existed. Even the most remembered people were all within the last few thousand years. Before that, there were thousands of individuals and while their DNA goes on in many cases, there is no real record of the existence of most of these individuals. And in a few thousand years, the same may be said of all off us.
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I’m assuming I was a twinkle. I could have been a leer or a squint. But I like to be optimistic.
It’s true what you say about being remembered. Fame is fleeting. One day, nobody will have heard of the likes of Plato, or Moses, or any of the ancient Pharaohs. We’re all just dust in the wind, as that old song goes, as we drift away into obscurity.
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I may have been an “oh shit, what have I done?!?” in my father’s eye.
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Perhaps, but that would have been after, not before.
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I am intrigued already!
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I am only twinkling at this point.
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LOL!
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I’m glad my writing can intrigue and twinkle. It must mean I’m onto something. Though it scares me what that might be.
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Good. Maybe I’m on the right track.
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I read another good story of a guy and it started with his remarkable conception as well. It’ll be fun to see how you stack up to this guy.
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I hope I’ll stack up immaculately.
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I look forward to further revelations about your story.
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Mark my words, I’ll try to write a story at least as well as a story recently written about a guy named Luke. Although I might have to do some of my writing while on the john. That’s gospel, and you can quote me chapter and verse on that.
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Hmm… how to work in Matthew…
If I do the math, you have 12 more blogs to write. 12 seems like an appropriate number of followers for this post.
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I’ll take all the followers I can get. But I’m not sure I can trust one of those 12.
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LOL! Someone else is on a roll too!
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You are on a roll today!
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Careful. If you encourage him and his math, you begin to pray desperately for relief.
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Haha! In math classes I always prayed for relief!
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Tippy’s Gestational Autobiography, from twinkle to conception to expulsion. Should be a fascinating read. Solitary confinement in a very dark place. 🙂
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I hope it fascinates, but it won’t always be pretty. And solitary confinement can be very traumatic.
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How are you blogging this if you’re not born yet?
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Umm, I’m writing this blog post-birth.
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I’m confused
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Just stick around. I’ll unconfuse you over the next few weeks.
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That’s no easy task. lol
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I’m just curious if you have any letters from your keyboard permanently singed into your forehead…
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Not permanently. After a few months of intensive forehead massage therapy, they faded away.
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Hmmm…..perhaps I need… 🙂
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I think you’re onto something. Some forehead massage therapy might take away your slap marks.
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I agree…but I have a strong feeling that they wouldn’t stay away long!
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fingers crossed that they don’t suddenly re-appear… 🙂
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Nice blog
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Thank you.
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My pleasure, followed you!
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Thanks again.
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And this is where you turn conventional thinking on its head. This sounds like a jolly good story!
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I hope it will be. Stick around. Where have you been, anyway?
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I’ve completely lost my muse for the written word. Instead I’ve been expressing myself through artwork, but I’m afraid my writing is better than my art 😉
During this whole lockdown thing, I’ve drifted away from the blogging world. I keep waiting for my muse to show back up again. I picture her also in self-isolation somewhere 😏
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I don’t know how you’d lose your muse, as I understand Canada has lots of muses. Or is that mooses?
Well at least your muse won’t catch Covid, if it’s in isolation.
I like your artwork, and am not so sure if it’s not as good as your writing. I think you could have a nice blog that just features your art.
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I hope my muse doesn’t eventually turn up smelling all moose-y … although I suspect I will just be really glad to have her back again – smell and all 😏
Thanks for the kind words. Like all new mothers, I’m exceptionally proud of all my little ‘offspring’ in all their imperfect glory. I’m afraid however that giving them an audience would imply I think I have talent. I know there is a world of difference between a real talent and an acquired skill … or in my case, a developing skill.
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Well let me put it this way. I’m sure you have much more artistic talent than me. I can barely draw a stick figure, so I’m impressed by anyone who can do better than that.
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