The Nights of Falls

It is the nights, when they descend upon you, envelope you; those are the times when the memories swirl around you and you realize, once again, that time has rushed on by.  The quiet is truly deafening.  You can hear you mind think.  You can feel every beat of your heart.  You go to the window, push back the blind. The full moon drifting through the clear autumn night sky. 

Remembering times when laughter and music filled your home you can almost accept the tears and loneliness of the  ticking mantle clock.  Being alone, afterall, is not a bad thing.  Being with the wrong person is not a good thing.  Life is a series of choices made moment to moment  You make them in haste or after long and prayerful thought.  Both ways have their consequences.  Both bring their own special brands of joy or pain.  That is the nature of the beast. 

You may want to go to bed to pull the covers up tight and wait for sleep.  Yet sometimes the memories keep washing over you.  You mind will not stop.  You toss, you turn.  And then sometimes you fall asleep without knowing.  Then you awake only to realize that it is you and you alone who choose how to feel.  Knowing this, you choose to continue on.  The dawn always comes and you will choose again...and again...and again.

It all goes on, this life thing.  The more you live it, the more you realize: it is all in how you respond to it.  It is all in how you embrace it or resist it.  It is all, you discover at last, up to you.

A Quiet Evening Alone with Everyone I Know or Have Ever Known

Nothing like a quiet evening home alone.  Turn off the TV.  Fend off the chill from a slow moving cold front.  Listen to the light rain outside.  Watch the dogs curled up together, slowly breathing, occasionally twitching.  The cat purrs in my lap.  The birds settled down for the night.  Time to catch up on some reading.  Letters, newspapers, bills.  A book I have been trying to get back to.  With the doors and windows closed tight, even the  cars driving by on the rain-slicked streets are muted reminders of how life continues to just pass by.

In the quiet I can hear myself think; something I have not stopped to do in some time.  When I pause and reflect, memories flood in like a rush of water filling the reservoirs  of my mind.  Childhood memories, my parents smiling while holding me in their arms.  My grandparents trudging through the snow to get to our front door on Christmas morning.  The day I left Michigan for California.  The births and the deaths, anniversaries and separations.  A long career.  A short romance.  All dance through my head in the silence of the evening as I wait for the ice cream to melt slightly just the way I like it; my treat before going to bed.

I have grown used to living alone, with my "kids", with my memories, with my still firm belief I will succeed.  It is not so bad being here, alone.  In fact, I am not sure I would seek to change that.  Not to say I am not open to whatever new relationship experiences may come my way.  But for now I am content.  This evening, sitting here with everyone I know or have ever known, with me in spirit, warming my heart; how could I ever be lonely?  This feeling will be preserved for future reference.  This is a place I can return to.   Here is where I will retreat to commune with all the saints and the souls who have contributed to who and what I am tonight.

Too Late....?

Sometimes I wonder if it is too late.  Actually, I have often wondered that over the course of my so-called life.  Is it too late to do the things I thought I always wanted to do.  Funny, I can remember thinking that when I was in high school, in college, starting my "career", buying a house, retiring....  Over and over, I wondered if it was too late.  And now, as I look back, I can see it was never too late.  It was always now.  

So then I wonder why I busy myself being busy with things that seem so important that what I thought I wanted to be doing, could wait.  Why is that?  Why do I constantly put my own hopes and desires on the shelf?  Oh, that sounds so like whining, and I apologize.  But really, why are we our own worst enemies?  

The problem as I see it is that affirmation is a powerful narcotic.  I seem to crave it, need it.  It feels so good to be appreciated, to be recognized.  It can seduce you.  Whenever I read  stories of famous writers or artists, it seems they all say that they couldn't do anything else.  That something within them drove them to write or paint or build a bridge.  They report that they couldn't do anything else.  Couldn't do anything else.  

That is when I question my dreams.  That is why a often wonder if it is too late.

Fortunately I am an eternal optimist.  And I know it is never, ever too late.

What Were You Thinking?

People ask and I have to say I have been thinking.  That could be good.  That could be bad.  Only time will tell.  I can only hope that the thoughts lead somewhere, anywhere.  It is such a waste of time to think, think, think and not have it manifest into something more than just a passing fancy.

So what, you may wonder, have I been thinking about?  That is something is best thought about and not revealed prematurely.  Sorry, but I have noticed lately a half-baked idea rarely results in a souffle you can be proud of. 

Think about it.  How many times have you revealed your plans only to find you did so way too soon and then had to explain why they didn't come to fruition.  That said, if you don't set goals and share dreams, how can you ever find the support and encouragement you need to achieve them?

So I continue to think about this and about that.  Some would say its neither here nor there when it is really somewhere in between.  Observe your thoughts as they flow through your mind, but don't own them.  They are thoughts.  Take them for what they are worth.  You can choose which thoughts reflect your innermost being.  Let the others drift on.  This is what I am thinking about right now and reminding myself that it takes discipline; it takes being mindful; and most of all, it takes deep thought.

Fate and the Best Laid Plans

Sometimes the best laid plans do, as they say, go awry.  Today I planned to attend the Art for Heaven's Sake Festival in Redlands.  I have done so every year for the past several years.  It is something I look forward to.  I usually attend church at the Redlands United Church of Christ on whose ground the festival takes place.  It is a mid-sized fair with probably a hundred more or less artists exhibiting all types of art.  It is a show I really enjoy.

But not this year.  This year I had a bad attack of vertigo and wound up spending the day in and out of bed.  Not the day I planned.  Which makes me wonder if maybe it is instances like this that make it difficult for me to make actual plans.  It always seems that something goes awry.  I hate to think I am a "portender" of doom, but it does seem that my best laid plans seldom go according to, uh, plan.

Okay, call it fate.  It was my fate to miss the show and church and spend the day reeling from an undeserved hangover.  Who knows?  Fate knows!  Fate steps in and takes control.  Man merely acts it out and suffers the fate set forth for him.  Say what?  Fate controls what happens?  Why make plans then?  Huh?  Fate laughs at man's plans.  Say what?

Okay, this is very existential know.  Do we have any say in what happens to us?  Do we dare make plans?  Are we indeed "tempting fate?"  And why would fate be tempted....especially if fate already knows what it intends to set upon us?

So there you have it.  Fate is in the driver's seat.  Is this the way God wants it?  I am rather confused.  Make plans yet fate has other ideas?  This is a concept I have a hard time wrapping my mind around.  Yet, it seems, like the mystery of all that is holy, like the face and nature of God, I can accept it, and I know I need to continue to make plans.  Yes, I might get sick.  Yes, I could get hit by a bus on my way to the art fair.  That may be my fate.  But God knows, I must fly in its face and live my life, God willing, and sometimes fulfill my plan....and always know that sometimes, God has a better one.

Moonstruck

Tonight I watched one of my favorite movies:  Moonstruck.  Starring Cher and Nicolas Cage, it is one of those quirky romantic movies that makes you believe in romance.  Cher's character Loretta, a young widow, has decided to marry for "like".  Then she meets a man, Cage's character, Ronnie, who ignites the flame she thought had long gone out due to "bad luck".  In the background, the fabulous full moon seems to cause everyone in the movie to experience the true meaning of romance.  I loved this movie in 1987 and it is still great today.

Romance.  I remember once being told that, much like the old song says, "falling  in love with love is falling for make believe*."   I imagine everyone who believes in romance is told that sooner or later.  But it doesn't matter, the stars in their eyes make them blind to believing anything else.  Even after these many years with basically no romance, I still believe in romantic love.  I still believe that someday, even at my age, true love will come along.  If not, I will be carried to my reward on a cloud of hope and moonbeam of dreams.  Now just how romantically delirious is that?

*Bernadette Peters in Cinderella sings Falling in Love with Love

Waiting to swim.  How long should you wait until you can go swimming?  Well, if you have eaten, they say you wait an hour.  Of course, this has been disproven.  Just read the Snopes article,  Hour Missed Brooks.  Yet the belief hangs on.  I actually thought it was true when I was a kid.  My mother said so.  So we didn't go swimming for at least an hour after a picnic lunch or at the high school pool.  Why, we didn't even dare take a bath until at least an hour after dinner!

So I heard this said again recently and knowing it really is a old wives' tale, I began to wonder, (not about who those old wives were, that is another wonderment I am sure to pursue some time), but about how much time we spend waiting to swim when we don't have to.  I am thinking of swimming as a metaphor for living in this instance.  Swimming, as is living, is a risky business at times.  It pays to have mastered some skills before you dive in.  Drowning, haven't nearly done it three times, would not be much fun.  And so is living.

It is interesting to me that when we try a new activity that may involve some risk, either to our personal safety, or to our reputation amongst our peers, we are encouraged to "just dive in."   See how nicely the swimming metaphor works?  "Just dive in and your innate knowledge will keep you afloat."  Survival I suppose is a great motivator.  It is just stepped off that diving board that scares the bejeebers out of us.  At least it does for me.

So I wait.  I think about it.  I study it.  I ask my friends.  I talk to experts.  I pray to God for courage and preservation.  And I wait some more.  Finally, I take a baby step.  I work up my courage, take a deep breath, and ...... and I come to my senses.  I am not a good swimmer.  Then that little voice that always speaks up at these particular time says, "You never will be if you don't dive in!  To swim you gotta get wet!"  Oh brother.  As if I didn't know that!

So sometimes I dive in and sometimes I sit back and wait.  I want to be sure I guess I have a back-up plan.  I want to be sure I will be rescue.  Then the Cowardly Lion from the Wizard of Oz gruffly chides, "Be a lion, not a mouse."   I say shut up.  Then I finally come to my senses.  Maybe I did eat lunch, but that old wives' tale is just a superstition.  So I decide to swim and, lo and behold, I do not sink. 

So how much time to you wait to swim?  When do you think it is safe to dive in?  What are you missing by not getting wet, by not experiencing the freedom of "swimming".  Waiting is just no use.  If you don't live now, when will you?  And by the same token, when will I?  No more excuses.  Let's dive in!