Woulda Coulda Shoulda...Its in the Experience

"In wisdom gathered over time I have found that every experience is a form of exploration." -- Ansel Adams

Ansel Adams

If I can only hold onto that thought!  That every experience is indeed an exploration is indeed an inspiring idea.  Sometimes I get to caught up in the drudgery of a routine activity or my resistance to actually doing something I think I do not want to do, that I forget that there is some reason I have been called to participate.  Oh, how I hate to be called sometimes!  There are times when I would so much rather go for a ride on my bike or work in my garden or just sit and read a book!   Yet those are all options, and worthy ones.  Those, too, are experience of exploration.

The thought to keep in mind in each experience I surmise then, is that each experience has something to teach us about ourselves.  It is not unlike the belief I have on occaision adhered to: everyone who comes into our lives is there to teach us something.  So it is with each experience.  If it were not so, what would be the point?  Why have memories and consciousness if we were not meant to use them to store histories and images of all that we encounter?

So there you have it again.  It is really in how you look at things.  Are we here to live?  To experience and explore, to gain wisdom and become those beings we were meant to be?  I guess the one caveat here would be to choose the to explore each experience and not get caught up in "woulda coulda shoulda".  Because if you could have or should have, you probably would have.

A Spring Day

I can feel it coming. It is just around the corner, maybe even closer.  No, here it is, knocking at the door!   Spring fever!  The symptoms manifest with every movement of the warming breezes.  The rainy days have passed, the cold nights of winter are but a memory.  It is spring.

These tulips danced in my kitchen for a couple weeks welcoming the rebirth of the natural world.  They practically sang odes of delight as Mother Nature did her best to chase off Old Man Winter.  Yes, it is time to rise up and take your places in the sun because everything is beginning again.  The cycle continues.

Happy Spring!

Striving for Happiness Brings....Striving

My thought for Monday, from the observant, insightful and marvelous brain of Leo Rosten: "I cannot believe that the purpose of life is to be happy. I think the purpose of life is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate. I think it is above all to matter, to count, to stand for something. To have it make some difference that you lived at all."*

Maybe I have had it all wrong.  Maybe Leo Rosten had it right.  The purpose of life is not necessarily to be happy.  The purpose is to be useful.  I am never happier than when I am useful.  When I am doing something for someone or some cause, I am happy.  Happiness comes  from being useful.  Uselessness is a terrible feeling.  How can you feel happy if there is no purpose for you?  I think this is what Oprah would call and "aha moment".  Aha!  This is why I volunteer.  This is why I offer to help. This is why I write this blog!  These are reasons to live, reasons to be alive, reasons to be happy!  

I still struggle some with this thought and with the other thought that things just are.  Life just is.  It is enough to "be".  The now is all we have.  So where does that leave happiness?  Where is the purpose?  Is the purpose just to be?  And in being, do we find happiness?  I would imagine the conclusion is, once again, somewhere in between.  It is often, I find, it balancing the need to be and the need to do.   It is somewhere between being appreciated and just being.

Monday mornings seem to bring out the philosopher in me as I get out of be and think about all the things I have to do as opposed to those which I want to do.  Choices abound.  And the first, getting out of bed, is the most important.  Lying in bed, letting life go by, well, that may be living in the "now" but is it living?

Happy Monday!

Leo Calvin Rosten (April 11, 1908 - February 19, 1997) was born in Łódź, Russian Empire (now Poland) and died in New York City. He was a teacher and academic, but is best known as a humorist in the fields of scriptwriting, storywriting, journalism and Yiddish lexicography.


*My Facebook friend, Karen B posted this as her status.  I have to say, it struck me right in the mind and in the heart!

Think of It As Therapy

Thinking about "it"

Sitting down just now, I realized I had nothing to say.  Some might think that is not a bad thing.  Sometimes there is nothing to say.  Sometimes just being quiet is a good thing...a very good thing.  Sometimes saying something when nothing would be said would be the better choice is just foolhearty or even harmful.  So when this happens, I take my forefinger and my thumb and I gently pinch my lips together and wait for the urge to pass.  Sometimes this works.  Sometimes it doesn't.

The above method works when talking with someone.  Of course, I don't usually have that problem.  I can be quiet, even silent, when need be or, truly, when I don't know what to say.  When I don't want to talk, I don't talk.  And it is that simple...most of the time.  And it gets easier as I get older.  Silence, you see, is indeed golden.

But then there is the writing bit.  I love to write.  For me, it is probably like the talker who loves to talk.  Yakety yakety yak.  Some folks love to chat it up good, not that there's anything wrong with that.  A good conversation is the lifeblood of relationships.  But writing is at times more deliberate.  It takes thinking, or so one would presume.  It takes intentionally sitting down with pen and paper or keyboard and laptop and connecting mind to fingers to paper or screen.  You would think the delay would prevent guffaws, but it does not always.  And the more I write, the easier it seems to just flow.  And, as with talking, there may be nothing wrong with that.

So I have to think of it as therapy.  It is where I can just blah blah blah and yadda yadda yadda and lo and behold, it often makes some sense.  Now that is a good thing.  Therapy.  The written word is my way of working it out.  Fortunately, if you are still reading this, you may even get it: that it is therapy for me and fun and play and good practice for when I get it all together, put it all in a book and go on Oprah, Good Morning America or Ellen.  Yes, this is good therapy.  Maybe I have hit on the next great flash in the pan reality of the season inspirational and motivational theory!

Yep, think of it as therapy...not just mine, but yours too.  Wonder where it will really lead us?

Not This Time

If you are expecting some wonderful words of wisdom, forget it.  I am not in the mood.  I feel like a slug.  I wanna just hang out with myself and enjoy the experience of "not".   What the heck do I mean, you ask?  I mean just "not".  Not not not.  Is that not clear?  Some say not is negative.  That may be true, although in this case, I am thinking of "not" as a very positive thing.  Being clear on what is not right, not desired or just not now, well, that can help you recognize what is. 

Huh?

I suspect you have found yourself like I do sometimes thinking about how life is not what I want it to be.  Not enough money.  Not enough travel.  Not in love.  Not going out enough, not staying in enough.  Not not not.  Focus on the "nots" in your life long enough, and that is all you will see....what is not.

So by not thinking about what is not, I find my attentions drift to what is.  I am and I am that I am.  I have food to eat and air to breathe.  I have friends, I have pets, I have a roof over my head.  Maybe I am not in a romantic relationship, maybe I am not on my way to Italy or Australia, but I am free to dream of those places and, if I finally get my act together, I can go to those places and I can find love.  But one thing I definitely am not, right now, right here, is in the mood.

So, feel sorry for myself.  Oh no, not me!  I know that my choices have brought me here and that is fine.   This teaches me that I can make other choices and do other things.  It is my priveledge and my challenge.  Some say their life situations are not their choices.  If not, then what are they?  Not predestination....no, not this time.

It Comes in Threes It Seems

I guess it depends on how you count them, but they do say that deaths come in threes.  Today I found out two of the "good guys" from where I used to work died.  One died after a long battle with cancer.  The other was hit by a car crossing the street to catch the bus to work.  The driver fled and has of yet not been found.  And then there is Elizabeth Taylor.  I am going to count this as three because Elizabeth was always there like so many icons and although I obviously did not know her, she was on some level, an influence on my life.  Just as Peggy, the cancer victim, and Chris, the man hit by the car, were.  All were good people who contributed something to life, who lived life fully and left behind a wide variety of fans and people who loved and respected them.  That, I bleieve it what it means to live well.  With passion, caring, and taking risks for happiness and love.

Someday, I hope they will say the same of me.  Rest in peace, Peggy, Chris and Elizabeth.  Without being overly sentimental or maudlin, your lives meant something to so many.  You will be missed.

As I sit on my front porch waiting for my muse to come, I am aware that Ching Ching and Tater Totte, my faithful doggies companions, are oft nearby 

Ching Ching & Tater Totte
watching, waiting while I write

watching, waiting.  Now we have had our walk, mind you, and we have had a good breakfast.  We have had a nice nap, well they have any way, and we have calmly watched the cats come and go.  We greeted the mail carrier and got our pats on the head for not  raising a fuss.  As so I notice that they are in waiting mode.

"What's next?" their quizical faces seem to say.  "Dinner? Another walk?  A good bark at a passing stranger?"  Then PK the younger kitty strolls up the driveway and they run to the gate excitedly.  "Come in here and let us chase you," they say.  But PK waits until they are settled back at my feet and goes inside to see if there is anything to eat.

Then once again, they assume a comfortable postion, and wait.  And wait.  And wait some more.  Then it dawns on me.  They are indeed performing a very important act of love and support for me.  Their job is to stand and wait.  That is what dogs do.  They may prance and dance and wrestle and whine.  They often run and lick your face or lie in the sun a while when you are in the bath or doing laundry.  But all the while, they are working very hard, listening for the next cue, the signal that makes them spring into action.  

So now I am wrapping up my daily write.  I look around and Tater is at the door and Ching at my feet.  Both are sitting patiently.  Ching can barely keep his eyes open.  A now it is time.  I will send my Mac into sleep mode and then, when I gently close the lid, the signal has come.   I move and the excitedly dance while seeming to day, "What's next?  What's next?  Let's go!!"  

The Dance

Better Late??

I have often heard it said, "Better late than never."  Well, I imagine in most cases that is true.  A few weeks ago I made a personal commitment to myself that I would write a blog every weekday and sometimes on weekends if so moved.  I told myself it really doesn't matter if people read them (I was lying to myself to protect my fragile feelings), just that I do it.  And then it became apparent that it did matter if people read them, but that was not the main reason I was doing it.  The main reason was to cultivate a habit of writing daily.  So thus, I have remained true to this commitment for about a month now.

So, in the vein of "better late than never", I submit this for you consideration.  This particular blog is later in the day than most, but still within the parameters of the commitment.  I am sure there are those who may have noticed.  I am sure there of those who probably did not.  In any case, I knew it and it remained on my mind all day until I finally sat down and blogged.

Sometimes on Monday that is all you can do.  Of course, that expression can be interpreted in other ways: if you are late, it will be better; better to try than not to try at all; late-bloomers are still bloomers; it is an excuse for being late and hope the other person values your time and effort enough to forgive the transgression.  In any case, here you have it for today, Monday, better late....than never! 

Saturday's Child

Saturday's Child

Saturday night.  Fun.  Excitement.  Going out.  Being with friends.  Socializing.  Maybe dancing.  Maybe a movie.  Meeting people.  Maybe someone special.  Maybe Mr or Miss Wright or maybe just Mr or Miss Right for Now.  Saturday night.

In the old poem, Saturday's child works hard for a living.  That child keeps his or her nose to the grindstone, does everything that is expected of them and still, on  a given Saturday night, finds themselves alone watching old movies or bad TV eating ice cream.  And when nine o'clock rolls around, Saturday's child goes to bed.

What is the expectation here?  And why is it accepted as the norm?  Being alone is not so bad.  The state of being single is not worse than death and death, as we know, is really an unknown quantity.  Sometimes our best company is truly our own.  If we do not know ourselves well, accept ourselves as we are, how on earth can we ever know or accept anyone else?  And if we do not love ourselves, well, it is impossible to truly love another.

Saturday night.  It is what you make it.  You can go out and chase the illusions.  You can stay home and wallow in self pity.  The better choice, I expect, is to give up the expectations and just rest in the state of being.  Acceptance of what is, is the most comforting and lasting thing one can do...especially on a cold Saturday night.

T.G.I.F.

Have you noticed how everyone seems so happy that it is Friday?  It is last day of the traditional work week, I know.  It meands the weekend is about to begin for sure.  It means less will get done at work, but the work that has been done will be assessed.  It means that friends will get together for lunch and co-workers will meet for happy hour and toast their jobs and their bosses (well, maybe).  Singles will make dates or eat loPublish Postts of ice cream.  Marrieds will collapse in each others' arms.  And some will actually thank God for more than the fact it is the weekend.

Fridays traffic is often described as "Friday-lite".  There are more smiles on peoples' faces and life, in general, for the day, is more laid back.  Friday is a day of hope.  We realize there is more to life than work.  We actually think that work itself can be fun. 

Friday's child is loving and giving. 

The rest of the week we seem to be looking forward to Friday.  Seems to me we might be missing something in pinning so much on this particular day of the week.  I wonder if there isn't some way we could have a Friday state of mind every day of the week.  Why not?  Wouldn't it be a lot like being in the now and thankful for every moment we are alive?  I do wonder.  Just a thought.  And it the meantime:

Wearing of the Green

Green is my favorite color.  Always has been.  Even though I wear a lot of blues and greys and black and even browns, I still prefer green.  I don't know why I don't have more green clothes, but I don't.  

I have green eyes.  Well, actually, hazel, but the green is the predominant color.  When I wear dark colors, and, of course, green, the green pops.  Maybe that is why I like green so much?

Green is the color of money, grass, go-lights, frogs, moss, some seas, emeralds, cucumbers, olives, young bananas, young people, on and on.  It is overall I pretty obiquitous color.  Yet on this day, Saint Patrick's Day, it pops out everywhere.  I don't know about you, but my eyes focus and catch on everything green.  That is why I want to go to the Emerald City someday I suppose.  I love green.

On top of that, I am Irish.  Although I discovered on my one trip to Ireland in 2000 that my father's father's father came to Ireland from Scotland as a mercenary to Donegal, I still claim my Irish heritage.  The luck of the Irish generally applies to me.  And I love potatoes, not, of course, when they are green. 

So the corned beef is in the crock pot.  The red potatoes and carrots are ready to be tossed in.  Irish soda bread sits on the counter and Bailey's Irish Cream is waiting in the fridge.  There is even a spot of Irish whiskey waiting to toast with erin go braugh.  

An Old Irish Blessing

May love and laughter light your days,

and warm your heart and home.

May good and faithful friends be yours,

wherever you may roam.

May peace and plenty bless your world

with joy that long endures.

May all life's passing seasons

bring the best to you and yours!

Wednesday's Child

Wednesday's Child
http://ericscalessketchbook.blogspot.com/
2009_10_01_archive.ht

Monday's child is fair of face,

Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day is bonny and blithe and good and gay.


Seems to me the children of the week in this poem make out pretty well except for Wednesday who is apparently unlucky enough to be full of woe.  I was born on a Wednesday.  Am I full of woe?  This morning I was sitting on the front porch having my coffee and reading the paper.  My mind began to wander.  Yes, there are times when I might be described as "full of woe".  What is woe any way?  Merriam's defines it thusly: "1 : a condition of deep suffering from misfortune, affliction, or grief; 2 : ruinous trouble : calamity, affliction ."   Well that is not me.  Sure I suffer, but it is always transient and always because I forget for a moment how very lucky I am.  I also am very fortunate that I suffer from no "ruinous trouble".  (Knock on wood).

So what's this woe thing about?  I am Wednesday's child, but I am not full of woe.  Where did it come from, this description?  I found a website, Bethany's Birthday Descriptions , with a description that I can live with.   It says "{Wednesday's child is} a serious person, and tries to change things that seem unfair. {He or she} makes the world a better place!"  Now I can live with that.  While I might not always be of a serious countenance, I am underneath it all, indeed serious.


So there you have it.  Woe is in the world and you can let it rule you or you can do what you can to change it.  Make some time for rumination!  Go ahead, I give you permission if you need it.  If you were born on Wednesday as I was, and even you weren't, scheduling it can save your sanity.  And when the alotted time is over, get on with it.  Remember, you make the world a better place!  And woe be to those who don't believe that!

It Would Be Tuesday

Here it is, Tuesday, the second day of the week.  It is the day when, after surviving Monday and catching up after the weekend, all the you-know-what hits the proverbial fan.  It seems people are often too busy to bother on Monday what they end up doing on Tuesday.  The phone always seems busier on Tuesdays.  People are just too busy on Monday with their own "stuff" to deal with other people's "stuff".   

I know this to be true because it always seems to happen when the shininess of Monday wears off and reality sets in....on Tuesday.

And yet the worst is when Monday comes on Tuesday.  You know what I mean.  Its when there is a Monday holiday.  Then your Tuesday becomes your Monday and it is still Tuesday and people rarely put off what needs to be done on Monday and Tuesday until Wednesday.  If they do, well, it just snowballs and more often than not, end up calling in sick on Thursday.  Of course that makes no sense with Friday lurking just around the corner.  It is always better to call in on Friday and make it a long week-end.  But I digress.

Tuesday is "derived from Old English Tiwesdæg and Middle English Tewesday. This was a loan translation of Latin dies Martis, originally associating the day with the planet Mars. The Germanic name translates Mars, the god of war, as Teiwaz (Old English Tiw)*."  So that explains it!  Anything associated with the god of war can only manifest conflict and disharmony.  No wonder it can be such a tough day!  

So there you have it.  Tuesday's are to be survived hopefully with very little emotional scars or actually physical injury.  But the funny thing is, I like Tuesdays generally.  It is definitely one of the underappreciated days of the week and, as you might suspect, I always root for the underdog.

Happy Tuesday!

*according to Wikipedia

Another Monday

Waking up I wonder where another week has gone.  Time moves so fast these days and they say it just goes faster and faster the older you get.  Warp speed I'd say.  Seems I just recover from the "Monday, Monday, Can't Trust That Day Blah Blah Blues" and its Sunday night again.  I try to hold onto the time and pin it to the wall, but it always slips away and becomes Tuesday then Wednesay then another week and another and then another month, another year.  Who decided this system was the best way to exist??

I try to be in the "Now" but the now slips into the past and the future comes on and on and on.  Oh, but it doesn't seem to matter.  It is Monday afterall, time to start again.  That is the good thing about Mondays afterall, a fresh new week begins and what we do with it, is always up to us.  Monday, Monday, maybe I can trust that day.

You're Not Serious

One does not always have to be serious.  Like when I find myself wondering why the kitten is in the bathroom, walking between the shower curtain and the curtain liner.  And then why she jumps into the bathtub itself and begins licking the water left from my last shower.  She has a water bowl of her very own in the kitchen, yet she seems to prefer this shower water.  Fortunately it is the bit of water left AFTER the tub has been rinsed after my shower.  No, this is not serious, but it is a matter of curiosity to be sure.

I think when you take things too seriously. well, it just doesn't get you too far.  Like when I find myself talking to the dogs about the banality of TV.  They, of course, have the right idea.  Just go to sleep.  When nothing is going on, they just lay down and go to sleep.  It makes so much sense.  But let me get up and walk toward the kitchen or to answer the door or just stretch my legs and they are right there.  Whenever something happens, they are up and at 'em.  Not serious, but a fun fact to be sure.

So just think about the little things, the things that are small wonders and can occupy you mind without overworking it.  Don't take things so seriously.  Like when a bird flies into the social media presentation just when the presenter is talking about Twitter and tweets and lands on the floor and acts while it is actually listening, (this really happened today), it just shows that the universe does have a sense of humor.  Look around and you'll see this is true.  I did!

Its not how you play the game, its whether you play at all!

Evenings Before Bedtime

http://comics.com/betty/2011-03-10/

Betty

The above is a link to a comic strip is from one of my favorite comic strips called Betty.  It is not published locally for some reason and I am not sure how I discovered it.  Anyway, this one really hit close to home.  I know I shouldn't over-stimulate my brain and senses by being on the computer before bed or watching too much TV.  I guess it wakes you up and gets your senses going which makes it hard for your mind and body to fall into a restful state.  And while I would love to read a book, I often have trouble focussing at that time of night.  Yes, it does help me fall asleep sometimes, but I quickly re-awaken.  Or worse yet, I fall asleep while reading, forget what I read, and end up reading the same passages again and again.  Is the Universe trying to tell me something?

Seriously, I do tend to turn to food in the evening.  It is, I sometimes suspect, my "drug of choice".  It comforts me.  It goes beyond nourishing me.  I love food!  Especially ice cream or something crunchy or salty.  Now I have been told this comes from boredom or some deep-seeded source of pain that I am pushing down.  Frankly, I think the boredom is more the cause than anything.  I have a hard time being passive and watching TV is one of the most passive things can do.  Yet if I go online, that is over stimulating!   What's a sleepy guy to do?

Well, bottom line is for me, I really have no trouble sleeping.  This is really about eating...eating too much!  Without revealing too much about my psycholgical dysfunctions, I do have this love-hate relationship with food.  Can't live with it, definitely can't live without it.

Oh well.  There could be worse things.  Imagine if I had been born where food was scarce and every day was a hunt for substanance and often I went to bed hungry?  Now that is a real problem for so many.  And here I sit complaining because I eat too much before bed.  What a superficial problem to have!  I am indeed fortunate.  

Okay, that said, I need to buck up and just be mindful of my own incidental madness.  Really, now, it is up to me again.  So here I will turn off the TV, and then count my blessings ala Bing Crosby!

When I'm worried and I can't sleep

I count my blessings instead of sheep

And I fall asleep counting my blessings

When my bankroll is getting small

I think of when I had none at all

And I fall asleep counting my blessings

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads

And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds

If you're worried and you can't sleep

Just count your blessings instead of sheep

And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads

And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds

If you're worried and you can't sleep

Just count your blessings instead of sheep

And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings 

Have a good productive and busy day and then you'll have no problem falling asleep, as my grandmother would say, a good job well done.

Ashes to Ashes

Ashes to Ashes

When I was growing up, my family was not very religious.  We went to church when I was very young because my parents thought we ought to.  When it became more of a chore for them to get my brother and I up and ready to get to church in time, we stopped going.  I carried the guilt of our fall from the church for many years.  Even now, I wonder how I as a rebellious and whiney kid had such power as to keep my family from attending church.  I remember that as with most things I resist doing (even today) I usually end up enjoying myself and wondering why I ever fought it.

Today is a day when much of the world is led to stop for a moment and reflect on the temporal nature of life.  The writer of Psalm 90 in the Bible says that human life is like grass that flourishes in the morning, but is dried and withered by evening.  All in the span of one brief metaphorical day.  It reminds us just how fleeting our lives are.  We come into this world with nothing and we leave the same way, and alone.  It is what we do in the meantime that makes a life.

I would venture to surmise that it the writer of this Psalm was taken with the brevity of life.  He or she has an "aha" moment when they realized it is all for naught if we put our stock in our accomplishments or in our aspirations.  It is the Now that matters.  I've said this before and I'll probably say it again: Life is in the living.  The dead have no life other than what is beyond this one.

Where I am today it is a bright and beautiful morning.  The sky is absolutely clear and blue.  The air is comfortably warm.  The birds are feeding at my feeder and others sing there morning praises in the trees.  It is indeed life and it is for the living.

I find myself constantly seeking inspiration and meaning.  Like that little boy so long ago who didn't want to go to church, I often find myself resisting going to those places, like church, where I find that inspiration and meaning.  I want to stay home and work in the garden or even just go back to bed.  Yet when I get up and get moving through each moment, practicing the discipline of mindfulness, I usually find I am glad I did.

There is someone I know who always asks me if I have had fun recently.  I usually respond by saying, "I don't like fun."  So what do I mean by that?  Surely not that because it is ashes to ashes and dust to dust, it must all be suffering.  Life is "fun" only if you make it so.  I am trying.  And even if I resist the fun (defined here as joy, inspiration, peace, etc.) eventually, I find I enjoy it when I am there, in the Now.

Whose Business Is It Anyway?

 

"Let the world know you as you are, not as you think you should be, because sooner or later, if you are posing, you will forget the pose, and then where are you?" ~ Fanny Brice

I have to think about that.  I do catch myself worrying about what people think of me, how I look, how I speak, what I say and what I've done with my life.

"What You Think of Me is None of My Business" is the title of a book by spiritual evangelist Terry Cole-Whittaker.  That title alone was enough to make me stop and think about how I function in the world.  I can only be me because that is the only person I know enough about to be.

“Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.” ~ Theodor Geisel  

So there you have it.  Wear red today.  Be yourself.  Red gives you energy, wakes up the people around you.  Be true to yourself and the rest will follow.  You don't have to get in people's faces to be yourself.  Quiet strength perseveres while bombastic and arrogant people eventually burn either themselves or everyone else around them out.  Be the beacon on the center of your world.

"The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself." ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

So whose life are you living today?  I am asking myself again and again and again.  Sooner or later, I will firmly believe I am living my life the way it is to be lived.  

And the funny thing is, no matter what I believe, I am already doing just that!

Into This Thing Called Night

It descends upon us this thing called night taking us into the darkness where we can only see that which is immediately with us.  I can only speak to it softly whilst silently I try to resist its charms.  There is solace in not seeing beyond the light.  And victory in turning out the lamp and saying hello to "darkness, my old friend*."  It is a retreat from a world turned cold and uncaring.  It is the blanket that comforts a weary soul.

And yet, it cannot, shall not, last.  Night as it follows the day, it a temporary condition, coming, as it does, to give the world rest.  Some rail against the inevitable.  I find it best to embrace it with my whole heart.  I know that morning will come again and with the dawn, new beginnings.  It is the way of things and to that I say, surrender and find your peace.  It is your choice but the reality cannot be denied.

* from Simon & Garfunkel, Sounds of Silence

The Curse of the Non-Cursive & Other Curses of Current Concern

Do you know this man?*

Curses!  The world is too much with us. Who said that?  I would imagine many young folks don't know.  I had to look it up, but I did remember the quote*.  But that lament precurses mine here.  I recently read that cursive writing was no longer being taught in some schools.  And it is also becoming more and more true that people have trouble writing in longhand, even stumbling while signing their own name!  I admit, I do not write by hand much any more.  I have become so acustomed to typing my thoughts and messages on my trusty Mac.  But as was said long ago by a famous statesman of yore, "It is better to offer no excuse than a bad one."**  I have no excuse here other than convenience and ease of editting.  

Recently I went to the move True Grit with some friends.  We were all wondering how they could remake an American movie classic.  We were all as in vernacular of today goes, blown away.  It was excellent.  But one thing that truly amazed us about the movie was, believe it or not, the dialogue.  The manner in which these inhibitants of a uncivilized and hostile environment spoke was indeed formal and sans contraction, ie: "do not", not "don't" or "will not", not "won't".  The characters spoke with a civility and gentility that belied there education and status.  It appeared someone took the time it would take to teach these folks proper speech and sentence structure.  But I digress.

Another thing I have some to realize with some dismay is that the prediction made in my youth that cash money (dollars, coins, etc.) would someday become a thing of the past.  By cracky, it is happening!  And, believe it or not, the routine handling of money in financial transactions is a dying art.  I recently found myself in possession of some of the greenback paper stuff and took it to the store to purchase groceries.  Now I realize that some of this language is sounding a bit stilted or archaic, but that only reflects how I feel!  I have grown so acustomed to using my debit card for most transactions, I did not recall easily how to enter my Vons' Club number into the ATM and then give cash.  And then counting change and trying to put it into my wallet, I became all thumbs!  Oh the feeling of becoming a member of an quickly passing generation who remembers these things!

So I curse the promoters of non-cursive scribing among us!  It is a curse NOT to know how to put pen to paper and write your signature, let along a letter to family or friends or the local editor.  Somehow becoming totally dependant on texting, tweeting and status updating to communicate is a sad glimpse of the future indeed.  But at least it is expedient.  And I can let at least 283 people if not more know I went to see True Grit at one time...if not more!

*The world is too much with us; late and soon,

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;

Little we see in Nature that is ours;

We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,

The winds that will be howling at all hours,

And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,

For this, for everything, we are out of tune;

It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be

A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; 

So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, 

Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;

Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;

Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

William Woodsworth, 

American Poet

(And don't ask me who Proteus or Triton are.  As any father of years gone by would say, "Look it up and learn.")

**This quote was attributed to George Washington, First President of the United States.  I think they still ask students to study some of the US presidents and their contributions to our shared history, but I could be wrong.