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    • Afterglow

      Just my old guitar and me
      Out to find my destiny
      Nashville is the place to be
      For big dreams and faded jeans
      — Dolly Parton, Big Dreams and Faded Jeans

      Like the rest of the world, I found it easy to like Dolly Parton. She had a gift for lifting people up. Like many, I wonder why people like that pass from this world too soon while the worst characters in history live well past their welcome. Even wondering such a thing makes me a less beautiful spirit than Dolly Parton. Call me a work in progress then. May there be time to reach that kind of potential.

      I wasn’t much of a country music fan growing up, but Dolly Parton was still a large part of my life’s soundtrack. Her songs were seemingly everywhere, and so was she. By all appearances, she got everything out of her 80 years. A candle in the wind that somehow survived the stormiest of times. Someone like that, you just assume that they’ll always be there, doing their bit to light up the world. When they pass, you realize the fragility.

      Still, there’s an afterglow. Like Glen Hanson a few weeks back, there’s a catalog of music, movies and videos to look back on in wonder. The lesson for each of us mortals is to contribute something meaningful to others, that they may carry us with them when we are no longer around. Our time grows shorter, and yet there’s still time enough to make a difference in someone’s life. Those memories, like faded jeans, offer comfort when we return to them again and again.

    • Rigidity Will Be the Death of Us

      Here is an amazement—once I was twenty years old and in
      every motion of my body there was a delicious ease,
      and in every motion of the green earth there was
      a hint of paradise,
      and now I am sixty years old, and it is the same.
      — Mary Oliver, Am I Not Among the Early Risers

      Back-to-back posts quoting Mary Oliver? There’s no arguing that she is a frequent guest in my writing and in my mind. In fact, I quote her so often that I make it a point to avoid quoting her. The blog isn’t a fan page for a specific poet, it’s a series of observations put into words one day to the next.

      Earlier this summer I simply stopped writing. I’d had a writing streak of a couple of thousand posts and ended it deliberately. Even as I began writing again the inclination to publish every day became less essential. When I have something to say I’ll say it. I don’t expect the world will grind to a halt. The only thing we are assured of is an ending one day. Memento mori.

      Once I was twenty. Where does the time go? The trick is a healthy body and sharp mind, kicking bad health down the curb as long as possible. But more, it’s walking through life with a healthy sense of curiosity and wonder. Life is fluid, and we ought to be too. Rigidity will be the death of us. Endings are simply beginnings for something else. Stay open, keep moving, and be curious.

    • Bigger

      “Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?”
      — Mary Oliver, Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches

      How many times have I used this quote? Not as much as “Decide what to be and go be it” but surely with some frequency. It’s one of Mary Oliver’s greatest hits, if one were to rank lines of poetry by the number of times quoted. But we don’t rank poetry lines in this blog; our mission here is learning to listen.

      Naturally, the quote doesn’t demand that we listen, but that we act when we’ve heard the call. Go forth and live bigger, for the hour grows late! What do we call a life of postponement? No life at all. We must live bigger! Be bold today. Tomorrow is far too late.

    • How Swell Thy Sting

      I was sitting outside with a good book, minding my own business, when in the blink of an eye a yellow jacket flew into my face just below my lower lip, panicked and stung me. I only knew it was a yellow jacket when I saw it fall to the deck after brushing it off. I’d done nothing to provoke it, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. All I could do was put an ice cube on my face to mitigate the swelling, take an antihistamine and get back to the book. Sure, it would have been better if it had never happened, but it also could have been worse.

      Amor fati (love of fate) is easy to say, harder to practice. We are constantly offered opportunities to accept the world on its terms. Do we? Another opportunity will surely bump into us sooner or later.

    • Discovered Deeper

      What is precious
      inside us does not
      care to be known
      by the mind
      in ways that diminish
      its presence.
      — David Whyte, The Winter of Listening

      I ought to write more, I tell myself. But what is this blog, written most every day, but writing? ‘tis not the same, I think. It is through the writing process that deeper discoveries are made.

      What I really mean is that I ought to carve out more time in my days for discovery. Writing does the trick, but so does a long walk amongst the whispering trees, so does listening to the right music, or seeing art that awes. We find something of ourselves when we venture beyond the self.

      We are constantly and forever finding out something about ourselves. Forever changing, evolving, becoming who we are to be. It’s the journey of our lifetime, revealed one day to the next. We ought to revel in the daily discovery, but we’re often too busy living to appreciate the incremental strides forward.

      When will we ever find the time , if not now?

    • You’re Invited

      “He who avoids complaint invites happiness.” — Abu Bakr

      Like most people, I find it easy to find something to complain about, if I let myself. But where is it getting me? Generally to a less happy place than I might have been otherwise. The answer, always, is gratitude. Be impatient with those who choose to ignore the blessings at hand to focus on complaints. They do not see how lucky they have been.

      We are invited to be happy. Our life will largely be realized by the lens through which we view it. Complaining about circumstances only gives them weight, for we now carry them instead of letting them fall away. Give lift to gratitude and tamp down the complaints. Life is happier when we focus on our blessings.

    • Say the Word

      A word is dead
      When it is said,
      Some say.
      I say it just
      Begins to live
      That day.
      — Emily Dickinson

      Many years ago, when I was but a young college freshman, I would wander about in the library stacks, quietly looking at the book spines for hidden treasure. One of my best finds was Typee by Herman Melville. Years later, having purchased the book to reread after a couple of decades away from it, I loaned that book to a friend who loved it so much he named his sailboat after a character in the book. I will always remember Fayaway for leaping off the page to become a central character in the lives of a couple of friends.

      Most of what we write will die of neglect—ignored or forgotten by the masses. But now and then we find something magical hidden within a jumble of words and realize that our words haven’t died, they just haven’t been discovered yet. The trick is to create something worthy of discovery, that magic might ensue. Something that leaps off the page and becomes quite real and alive.

    • The Price of Greatness

      “If you want to be different from everybody else you’ve got to pay the price.” — Anton Myrer

      Paying the price of greatness sounds like a catchy line. It’s easy to dismiss catchy, or to embrace the idea but not follow through on it. Actually paying the price is very difficult, or everybody would be great. Have a look around; the world is chock full of average. Great is evasive, it’s lip service to the concept that is commonplace.

      We ought to aspire to greatness in something. So much of what we do, try as we might, may reach good but not great. Nothing hits the ego harder than our best efforts resulting in something that is just okay. I know I will never be great at some things I truly love doing, but accept being good enough. Accepting good enough is a price paid for attempting to be great at something else.

      We may never reach greatness in anything, but we can reach a level of satisfaction with how far we’ve come. Alternatively, we can pay a steeper price, knowing average effort leads us to average results. The choice is ours, isn’t it? Just what price are we willing to pay?

    • You Are Young. Live!

      “Live all you can. It’s a mistake not to. It doesn’t matter what you do — but live. This place makes it all come over me. I see it now. I haven’t done so — and now I’m old. It’s too late. It has gone past me — I’ve lost it. You have time. You are young. Live!” — William Dean Howells

      I’m writing this on the opposite end of the day from the norm. The reason is a keen inclination to live today, despite the usual distractions that life throws at us. And oh, the distractions! But it’s now or never, when it comes to living. Tempus fugit.

      It doesn’t matter what we do, so long as we live. There are no do-overs, there are no second-chances, there are only regrets if we wait any longer. There is only now.

      As The Grass Roots put it, Sha-la, la-la-la-la, live for today. Sure, plan for tomorrow, but never defer that living part. We are young, or at least as young as we’ll ever be. So carpe flippin’ diem, already.

    • Wise Guy

      “The art of being wise is knowing what to overlook.” — William James

      If I struggle with anything in life, it’s containing a streak of sarcasm that runs through me, seeking attention through expression. There is a big difference between being wise and being a wise guy. The former are revered, the latter get knocked off by rival gangsters. Just who do we want to be anyway?

      On the road to arete, one must shrug off the inclination to be clever all of the time. The trick, I think, is to stop thinking of things to say all of the time and learn to listen, observe and absorb what is being said and done around us, that we may be more informed. Personal excellence is a chosen path, achieved one good choice at a time. Choosing to be less clever and more attentive is a step closer to reaching our potential (should we dare).

      There’s nothing wrong with having something to say. That doesn’t mean we have to say something just to fill a gap in conversation. A pregnant pause usually births some insight we might have missed if the space had been filled with all sorts of clever nonsense. Mind the gap, as the Brits say. There’s usually something hiding there.