The Loss of Roblimo

Robin MillerWhen news of Robin ‘Roblimo’ Miller’s death came to me through a tweet to a Linux Journal article, I sighed.

I felt a momentary sadness. And I laughed because it came to me even as I was fighting with Microsoft’s Windows 10 Update (1803, April 2018) that had bricked my Windows machine. I laughed because Robin would have laughed had he not been so unfortunately absent, and he would have been laughing at me.

We’d had the conversation more than once in 2003, and later in 2005, about the fact that I never went completely over to Linux for my systems. His argument – and it was only that, a way to get me on the defensive – was that without full commitment, Linux and Free Software/Open Source would always lag. My response was that in a world that had so many Microsoft machines, I had to stay relevant in Software Engineering and also in seeing differences in the systems, that I needed both experience sets to make sure that my stomach did not think to complain that my neck had been cut.

We were both right, and we both knew it. So, yes, I laughed, and even as I unborked Microsoft’s problematic patch, there was a part of me that recognized the stillness of loss. That silent understanding that little conversations like that would be lost.

You can read about Roblimo on Wikipedia, and it seems to me like examining a fly pinned to the wall (I had my own run-ins with Wikipedia). It hardly communicates who he was. People who had the pleasure of knowing him knew he stood for what he believed in, that he was uncompromising in his belief.

I met him at the FLOS Caribbean conference in 2003, here in Trinidad and Tobago, when a group of well intentioned people gathered from the larger Caribbean to try to build bridges to local government about how much sense FLOS made. Unfortunately, it didn’t have kickbacks or trade agreements, so local government wasn’t as interested in hearing about it – but it brought Robin down, as well as others.

He and I spent many a smoke break together during the conference. People underestimate how much can be spoken of during those periods when one shares a common vice if only for 10-15 minutes.

We would meet again in Boston in 2005 for another Linux event. And we would stay in touch over a period of 15 years, sporadically sharing things on social media, commenting, pushing our perspectives sometimes against each other. Later, while I was in Florida, I always planned to make it over to see him in Ft. Myers. It was the other side of the State, and… it just never happened, mainly because when I was working, I was working full tilt on something.

And now he’s gone. But what I learned from him echoes on, as it will with others, and that will simply have to do for us.

It’s a shame he’s not around for me to share this with.

The Stillness.

Heart Chakra EnergyThe greatest act of consciousness is to be still, and the greatest act of courage is to stay still, if only for a few moments. It at first takes a great effort, will, to get there.

Some say they find peace in such things, a calm, a serenity. They do not talk about clawing against the sides of your own consciousness, about the echoes of distraction clamoring. They do not speak of these things because no one wants these things, everyone wants to hide away from the world sometimes… only to find themselves with their self.  Yoga is trendy, as meditation once was, but this is not either one of those things.

In periods of great concentration, things fall away to the pinpoint of what matters, the goals, the challenges, and this is where most people live, what most people aspire to – the goal oriented world neglecting the context, incapable of understanding things as they are, only seeing things as hindrances or helps in the world toward whatever it is that they’re working for. They are all short term goals, anyway, in geological terms.

The bread you remember or forget at the store won’t matter in a thousand years. The meal you had that you took a picture of won’t matter in 10,000 years. That perfect sentence you wrote and are so proud of won’t matter in 100,000 years. It all comes down to the now, the repercussions, the causalities, the probabilities, and the flawed understanding of the world that we have been taught or have learned in less than a heartbeat of the Universe.

The silence is eery. Some run from it, afraid of what they might find, thinking it the deepest part of themselves when in fact it’s only where we start. Some stare into it, mesmerized, unable to do anything else. And others dive in and come back out, changed every time in ways others cannot understand, in ways sometimes they themselves cannot understand.

There is something there in that mess of neurons and cells that holds secrets we do not explore enough. A period of time where we see everything at once when we stare at nothing, a period of time when the future and the past mean nothing. It’s not even a goal, it’s a way of being.

A way of being different for everyone.

Reality Fragments

puzzleThere is a fluidity to reality we all need to take a break from now and then. We know this because it comes in fragments, the cavitations of the mind aerate this fluid and fill us with the noise of our own thoughts.

Within these bubbles, like a submarine, we can’t see what is going on around us, it’s all masked by our own noise, and the only way past that is to come to a dead stop and let reality be re-assembled in our minds. Reality continues even when we don’t perceive it.

Reality, after all, is what happens despite belief, despite hope, and despite intent.

Slide.

Surrounded by darkness an unfamiliar comfort is sensed – a primordial comfort, a disembodied comfort, a stasis.

The show is about to begin.

Lights of the spectrum shimmer in a quantum order – not linear, it all happens at the same time, and as confusing as it should be it isn’t. It is as it should be. Unfocused, slowly becoming focused, familiar places. Familiar faces. They do unfamiliar things in unfamiliar ways, pathways of possibilities unexplored, viewed through a disassociated lens.

There is comfort here in the discomfort of the unfamiliar, a board game beyond dimension. Things happen – things that some remember to write down, things some do not.

A flickering. It is gone.

I am awake, snatching at the lost fragments of dreams.