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    • Free From All Licentious Reflections, Insolence, and Abuse

      “As our present political state affords Matter for a variety of Thoughts, of peculiar importance to the good people of New England we purpose to insert every thing of that Nature that may be pertinently and decently wrote. For ourselves, we declare that we are of no Party, neither shall we promote the narrow and Private designs of any such. We are ourselves free, and our Paper shall be free—free as the Constitution we enjoy—free to Truth, good Manners, and good Sense, and at the same time free from all licentious Reflections, Insolence, and Abuse … to state and defend the Rights and Liberties of Mankind.” – From the Independent Advertiser, on January 4, 1748.

      Samuel Adams was 26 years old in 1748; a Harvard College graduate working in his father’s malthouse (or brewery if you believe the marketing) and trying to figure out his place in the world. That year he would take a big step towards that goal with the publication of his newspaper, the Independent Advertiser. Heavily influenced by the writings and philosophy of John Locke, he would in turn influence countless people himself. He would write most of the content in the Independent Advisor for the next 27 years until the British would shut it down in 1775. Too late for the Mother Country, for the damage was already done.

      Samuel Adams was 41 when the French and Indian War ended, leaving Great Britain in debt and looking for a way to relieve that debt. They chose taxation of the colonists who had already suffered the weight of the war with the French and Native American population. This would prove too much, and the Independent Advertiser became decidedly less neutral. Adams, as the primary writer of the newspaper, became a thought leader and the Father of American Independence. The period between the end of the French and Indian War and the beginning of the Revolutionary War cemented Adam’s place in history.

      Nowadays its trendy in some orange circles to bash the media as fake. There’s no doubt that there’s plenty of fake media out there, but there’s also plenty of real news that politicians and profiteers would sweep under the “fake news” rug. The problem is knowing what, and who, to trust. And now there have never been more misinformed content writers, promoters of conspiracy theories, and the mad ramblings of direct sources on Twitter to fuel the chaos. These are strange, dark times.

      Adams was considered a radical until enough people saw things the same way. It makes you wonder, what is considered radical today that will gain enough momentum to be commonly-accepted truth down the road? There’s plenty to choose from in the last few years leading up to this penultimate 2020. Who is rising up to state and defend the Rights and Liberties of Mankind? Plenty of people are. The question is, who will shake themselves free of the noise to listen? And if 2020 is indeed penultimate, what is the next chapter?

      The concept of civilized discourse in politics has eroded over the last few years. That mirrors society as a whole, at least on social media and on the front lines of ideological debate. As a reader of history I know it wasn’t all that much different in Sam Adam’s time. We just have more advanced technology to amplify the licentious reflections, insolence and abuse. At what point does that technology start amplifying the truth, good manners and good sense instead? As it was when Samuel Adams was building his future, it will be when enough people start seeing things the same way. And demanding a higher standard.

    • Life on Venus

      “Apparently it smells basically like death… It just smells horrific. We once, I think, found a report of someone saying it smelled like the rancid diapers of the spawn of Satan.” – Clara Sousa-Silva, NPR interview

      Life on Venus? Not exactly, but life swirling about in the clouds of Venus is apparently a very real possibility. That there’s a possible confirmation of life in the universe beyond Earth is extraordinary. That the life in question – Phosphine – smells like the bad gas of a rat after a night of dumpster diving is extraordinarily 2020. And yet here we are.

      In another year the announcement of life on another planet would have been front page news. But Phosphine isn’t particularly sexy as life goes, and we have enough alien life to deal with right here on Earth already. Honestly I’m happy there are brilliant people like Clara Sousa-Silva and her peer Jane Greaves are out that the very thing that we’ve all been looking at all along has potential living matter dancing in the Venus clouds. My mind simply doesn’t function in such a way that I’d make that connection between the chemical signature of Phosphine as proof of life on Venus. Or rather, life in the clouds of Venus.

      That brilliant women are leading the discovery of life on Venus leads to the rather obvious men are from Mars, women are from Venus analogy, but I dare not go further than that. I’ll simply concede that these women are far ahead of me in the brain matter department and doing mind-blowing work. I spend my time with words and images and making connections between people, not immersed in science. Shame on me, really, for this is really fascinating.

      And yes, I’ll admit it: Venus and I have had a long relationship. It’s not exclusive, mind you, but we get together often on long evening walks or quiet moments of stargazing. I admit I even take the binoculars out sometimes to get a closer look. But I knew the relationship was best kept long-distance. Venus has a toxic personality, after all. Best to look but not touch. And now to find out that she has bad breath too. It’s all too much, really. To gaze in wonder at this heavenly object for years only to find out she’s not at all what you expected her to be. But expectations are funny things, and we spend far too much time elevating objects of our affection to higher levels than they ought to occupy. That’s a lesson we can bring right back to Earth straight from the clouds of Venus.

    • Drink Up Before the Dregs

      “Lay hold of to-day’s task, and you will not need to depend so much upon to-morrow’s. While we are postponing, life speeds by. Nothing, Lucilius, is ours, except time.” – Seneca

      “What is the state of things, then? It is this: I do not regard a man as poor, if the little which remains is enough for him. I advise you, however, to keep what is really yours; and you cannot begin too early. For, as our ancestors believed, it is too late to spare when you reach the dregs of the cask. Of that which remains at the bottom, the amount is slight, and the quality is vile.”
      – Seneca, Letters From a Stoic

      We had our first frost of Autumn overnight. The fog rising from the ponds this morning betrays warmer days conceding to cooler nights. In New Hampshire the leaves will soon turn progressively to bright yellow, red and orange before turning brown and returning to the earth to fuel the next generation. Such is the cycle of life.

      Early mornings trigger my adventurous spirit. I have the most energy and a willingness to dare greatly. By 9:30 – 10 PM I’m generally running on fumes and ready to call it a night. While I’m not old just yet, I suppose I’m the opposite of youth in this respect. Certainly the opposite of the rest of my household. And if a day is a lifetime, I reach the dregs sooner than most. But I started so much earlier in the day savoring that first sip (metaphorically, of course). I honor the Thoreau quote on the home page whenever possible, seeking adventures, but mostly I rise early.

      Seneca’s Letters From a Stoic is a call to action written almost 2000 years ago and still ignored by the vast majority of people in their lifetimes ever since. Nothing is ours but time! Keep what is really yours, for you cannot begin too early. Savor this very moment, such that it is, and make of it what you can. That is the eternal challenge for each of us. To spend wisely this moment. And each day offers reminders to get to it already.

    • The Bows and the Arrows

      Your children are not your children.
      They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.      ..

      You may house their bodies but not their souls,
      For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.      ..

      You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
      For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
      You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
      The Archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
      Let your bending in the Archer’s hand be for gladness;
      For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.
      – Kahlil Gilbran, The Prophet

      One by one the Grands stood up and told a favorite story about Pops. All of them good speakers, confident in the acceptance of the audience, and also in themselves. And this would have been his favorite part of the night. For he knew, as the generation between Pops and the Grands has learned, that the Grands are the arrows flying into the future. And we are but the bows that send them there.

      Admittedly its funny to think of yourself as a bow when you’re still flying along as an arrow towards your own future landing place. To be an arrow is to be actively reinventing yourself, using whatever momentum you have to muster. Sometimes you get a favorable wind to carry you along, sometimes the wind isn’t your friend, but you’re flying nonetheless. And with only a general idea of your direction, the rest just a mystery unfolding in front of you.

      When you stack four generations in a room to celebrate the life of one powerful bow you see a lot of arrows flying in different directions, but every one of them flying. To celebrate is what he wanted most of all, and he’d have beamed at the arrows he helped launch. And now that his arrow has landed, I suppose the rest of us have to provide the favorable wind for each other.

      I didn’t think of bows and arrows as each grandchild spoke, I thought about that grandchild and the incredible spirit they each have. They’re each still rising on their own trajectory, but with so much more momentum than I had at their respective ages. And that’s what we all want; the next generation to build off our own momentum and be an even more powerful force in the universe than we can be ourselves. Flying onward, seeding the future with the powerful spirit of those that sent them there. Watch them soar.

    • The World As We Know It

      “… and anyhow travel is over, like one’s books and the rest of civilization” – Rose Macaulay

      This Macaulay quote, plucked from the extraordinary Erik Larson book The Splendid and the Vile, was from a letter that she wrote to a friend after her London flat was destroyed in 1941 during one of the many attacks the city suffered, wiping out all of her books and personal belongings accumulated over her lifetime to that point. I found this particular quote profound because in many ways I feel that way about 2020, when the idea of travel and any semblance of civilized discourse seems illusive at best. It shines as a reminder that others have been in far worse places than we’re in now, and this too shall pass. The war eventually ended and some level of civilization returned. Macaulay went on to travel extensively, writing some best sellers along the way.

      Of course, I can’t just read a quote like that and not look into the source, and Macaulay doesn’t disappoint. I’ve added her to the list of authors I need to invest more time with once the stack of books has reached a respectable level of completion. For now, here are a couple of quotes from Dame Rose Macaulay that particularly resonated for me:

      “It wasn’t really touching to be young; it was touching not to be young, because you had less of life left. Touching to be thirty; more touching to be forty; tragic to be fifty; and heartbreaking to be sixty. As to seventy, as to eighty, one would feel as one did during the last dance of a ball, tired but fey in the paling dawn, desperately making the most of each bar of music before one went home to bed.” – Rose Macaulay, Dangerous Ages

      “Life, for all its agonies…is exciting and beautiful, amusing and artful and endearing…and whatever is to come after it — we shall not have this life again.” – Rose Macaulay

      I suppose the takeaway from each of the three quotes is familiar ground for readers of this blog. The world as we know it will continue to change, and so must we. Savor the dance to the last note. Savor youth while you have it and the moments always. And in the darkest days, remind yourself that the world will be there for you when you’re ready or able to venture out into it once again.

    • That Fire Was

      “Ashes denote that fire was;
      Respect the grayest pile
      For the departed creature’s sake
      That hovered there awhile.
      Fire exists the first in light,
      And then consolidates, —
      Only the chemist can disclose
      Into what carbonates.” – Emily Dickinson, Fire

      I once climbed into a cave deep in the Grand Canyon and observed the soot accumulated on the ceiling from fires generations years ago. I’ve had similar observations in fireplaces in the castles of Scotland and the old forts of North America. And I’ve come across old fire pits deep in the woods. And I’ve often wondered, who gathered around this fire? What was their story?

      With Autumn we start gathering around fires more often, warmed by the glowing embers and infused with smoky thoughts. Inevitably I think back on other fires I’ve gathered around, sometimes with the same cast of characters, sometimes with their echoes, and wonder where the time goes. The burning coals I stir become the ashes I scatter when they cool, like memories cooled with time. And I wonder, who will come across my own fire’s ashes?

      And now, what coals are you stirring?

    • Social Media Fasting

      For all the madness in the world, it feels both quiet and ordinary most days. Until you pick up your phone and read the stream of toxic opinion and rage tweets anyway. In an attempt to dial down the craziness I deleted the Twitter app three days ago and find it a refreshing non-factor. There’s a lot I like about Twitter, but a lot I can do without too. Blog posts are automatically tweeted out, but ironically I don’t even see my own posts.

      This isn’t a post bashing Twitter or Facebook. I enjoy the experience of being on each. Instead I’m reflecting on fasting now and then. A friend of mine is doing intermittent fasting and lost twenty pounds. With social media fasting you don’t lose anything. Instead you gain time back in your life for substance and meaning. Time for reflection and deeper conversation. Time to read the books that stack up resentfully waiting for you to put down your damned phone. Time to think. Time to be.

      I lived without Facebook for the first three months of 2020 and felt I didn’t miss much of anything save a few pictures and an endless stream of opinion posts. I’ve dabbled in opinion posts and find the upswell of indignation they generate a complete waste of time and energy. So rather than fight the urge to contradict the inane ramblings of a zealot I simply delete the entire post and wish people Happy Birthday! and leave it at that. With the election coming in the United States it may be a good time to step away from Facebook once again. With significant life events happening I’m holding out for the time being.

      Twitter on the other hand is an attractive rut you just can’t seem to crawl out of. I’ve followed authors and thought leaders of substance and gain the experience and wisdom they offer. But Twitter is set up in such a way that you also become subjected to seeing posts or suggestions that person you’re following likes or comments on that you may have no interest in pursuing. It’s clickbait on steroids. The rut quickly becomes a rathole. I don’t want to hang out in either ruts or ratholes, thank you.

      In omitting or limiting Twitter and Facebook time you open up thinking time. Outdoors time. Get things done time. Mask-to-mask time. Thinking time. Experience time. Learning time. And generally more time in your life time. That seems to me a fair trade for the very real information you might glean from each platform. And so I fast.

    • Seeing Stars

      “The stars, that nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps with everlasting oil, give due light to the misled and lonely traveller.” – John Milton

      One side effect of the wildfires in the West are the clouds of wispy smoke high up in the atmosphere turning the days an overcast grey. At night the stars are obscured by this wispy smoke, the remnants of trees and homes and life disrupted 3000 miles away masking the stars above us. I’m reminded of how much I measure the night by the stars above. Companions lost in the haze. I believe that if this doesn’t convince people of climate change what will? But the stars aren’t the only ones lost in the haze. I’m often surprised at what people will believe, but the larger tragedy is what people will make people believe to raise their own status. Even at the cost of the quality of life for all current and future inhabitants of this planet.

      “Little by little,
      You will turn into stars.”
      – Hafiz, Skinning Your Knees on God

      We’re all connected beings on this planet, and we’re all connected matter in the universe. The universe is part of us, and someday we’ll once again be a part of it. We’re all swimming about in this dance of energy and light and Faith. This interconnectedness is lost on too many people concerned more about us versus them. What impacts the west coast impacts the east coast in another way. Borders are manmade creations that betray the interconnectedness of all of us. These are the rules we’ve established in this game, but the universe knows that it’s all just a game.

      That hazy smoke above is matter that was once energy in the form of trees and grass and wildlife. Eventually the fires will burn out and the skies will clear again. The stars will come out and shine brightly. The universe is constantly in motion and will reset once more. The smoky remains of forests and lives forever altered will eventually be absorbed and convert to fuel and substance and energy once more. Will we remember the fires and the hazy days? Will we make meaningful change while there’s still time? The universe doesn’t care, but we should.

    • Willing to be Dazzled

      “Still, what I want in my life
      is to be willing
      to be dazzled—
      to cast aside the weight of facts
      and maybe even
      to float a little
      above this difficult world.”
      – Mary Oliver, The Ponds

      Maybe it’s the dulling effect of years staring at screens, where every moment is designed to dazzle you into staying. Don’t click away! Stay! Wait, look at this! I believe too many people have lost their willingness to be dazzled by the world. And that’s a shame. The world can be dazzling indeed.

      I quickly fall behind when people start listing the shows they’ve watched. I’ve watched a few, but I just can’t commit to binge-watching every episode of every series that’s been recommended. I feel like I’m missing out when I watch an early afternoon football game, not because I don’t love the game, but because its three hours of time that I might have spent outdoors or in conversation with someone of significance. I recognize that this makes me a bit different than the norm. I never professed to be normal.

      We’re halfway through September. Personally a rough month in a year so rough many would soon forget it. The weight of facts are overwhelming. There’s far more on my mind than being dazzled this week, but that’s the very time to open your eyes to the world and find the magic. For its out there waiting for you should you take the time to see. The sun still rises and sets, mountains and oceans still mark time and the world keeps spinning. There’s a Carolina Wren singing to me even as I write this as if to remind me the world is still here. And so must we be.

    • Not Often a Beautiful Relation

      “While almost all men feel an attraction drawing them to society, few are attracted strongly to Nature. In their reaction to Nature men appear to me for the most part, notwithstanding their arts, lower than the animals. It is not often a beautiful relation, as in the case of the animals. How little appreciation of the beauty of the landscape there is among us! We have to be told that the Greeks called the world Beauty, or Order, but we do not see clearly why they did so, and we esteem it at best only a curious philological fact. For my part, I feel that with regard to Nature I live a sort of border life, on the confines of a world into which I make occasional and transient forays only, and my patriotism and allegiance to the state into whose territories I seem to retreat are those of a moss-trooper.” – Henry David Thoreau, Walking

      The New Hampshire sky at dusk last night was filled with the wispy smoke of fires from California. Instead of moss-troopers crossing the border and plundering the land, nature is taking over and reminding us that the world is on edge. Burning, warming, and recoiling from mankind’s continued affront. I see the fires out west and look at the drought in the White Mountains and understand it could easily happen here too. Were it not for the steady march of tropical storms coming up and soaking us we could well be there already. But that endless string of tropical storms is yet another symptom of climate change. The earth has a fever, and ignoring it will not make it better.

      There’s a certain draw to the life of the 17th century moss-trooper, those Scottish brigands who would plunder the British across the border and then melt back into the landscape. The inclination to melt into the landscape seems more natural than mankind’s push to conquer nature. I’m like Thoreau in this respect. Too much of mankind has the opposite view: plunder nature to fuel profit. No appreciation for what we have, only how much money we can squeeze out of the land and sea.

      I’ve found that the same people who believe that news they don’t want to hear is fake are the first to question science around climate change (or COVID-19 for that matter). In America anyway, the rhetoric around the rights of the individual fueled by the limitless opportunity for self-expression the Internet provides has created a world where the adults in the room are constantly being shouted down by the maddened crowd. Something has to give. We’ll either plunge into chaos or rally towards a unified focus on sustainability and order. I fear for the former but hope for the latter. I wonder, what will it be?