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    • Possibility

      “Wanting things to be simple can become a kind of prison, it really can, because you end up staying trapped inside how you want things to be rather than embracing how they could be. You end up closed. You end up shutting doors to so many possibilities.”
      — Matt Haig, The Life Impossible

      There is a tendency to move towards simplicity as we get older and more settled in our ways. The young think in possibilities, the old embrace safety (let’s not age before our time, eh?). What is certain feels safe. Yet nothing in life is certain—certainly not our position in it. The only certainty is the end, and we shroud that in mystery and superstition too.

      Our path through uncertainty, I believe, lies in awareness and receptivity. When we are fully aware of where we are, of who we are and where we’re going, we begin to see everything as perfectly imperfect. We know that this little dance with life has its share of stubbed toes and slips. One answer is to get back up and start dancing again. Another answer is to find a new dance floor, or dance partner, a new soundtrack to dance to, or maybe a new dance altogether. Being receptive to change opens us up to possibility.

      What is possible for our lives is rarely aligned with what is probable. We must become pattern-breakers to reach possibilities. To explore the world we must leave that which we’ve grown comfortable with, if only for a little while. Having left, we won’t come back the same person. If we come back at all. So why complicate life by leaving at all? Keep it simple, the prison warden in our heads tells us. Simplicity is safe. But it makes everything beyond impossible. At least until we break free of that mind trap.

      This is not an inditement of simplicity (I’m rather fond of it myself), but an encouragement to finding more possibility in each day. Our routines save us by keeping us on track towards our goals, which are themselves possibilities. On that road to find out, it’s always worthwhile to ask ourselves if this is the path we want to be on in the first place. Often, the very next question tends to be, what else is possible? We reaffirm our direction or we refute our belief and move on to something else. Possibility is forever an open question leading us towards a more complete answer to our why.

    • One Who Seeks

      “I have no right to call myself one who knows. I was one who seeks, and I still am, but I no longer seek in the stars or in books; I’m beginning to hear the teachings of my blood pulsing within me. My story isn’t pleasant, it’s not sweet and harmonious like the invented stories; it tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves.” ― Hermann Hesse, Demian

      There’s a scene in the movie Good Morning, Vietnam where the song What a Wonderful World is playing while scenes of horror unfold. I used to hate that scene, for taking a beautiful song and associating it with the ugliness of war. Now I understand that the world is always filled with ugliness, and yet it’s also beautiful and yes, wonderful. War is horror, and so sometimes is living. The dichotomy is both external and within us. We are drawn towards that which we seek. But it’s all there, isn’t it?

      As this is published, there are humans executing wars on other humans at the same time as other humans are exploring the void of space. It’s not much different than 50 years ago, is it? Vietnam and the Apollo missions and Civil Rights in the 70’s. Have a look at the headlines today and we see the same stories unfolding. Humans are complicated, and we never really change all that much.

      I may fancy myself a philosopher or a writer tapping away at my keyboard, but the rubber meets the road when we get out into the world and see the ugliness. Sometimes we ourselves are the ugliness. Sit in traffic long enough and you begin to resent the world. Sit in a meeting listening to others ramble about nonsense and we become nonsensical ourselves. In such times, the journey must turn inward. Just who do we want to be anyway?

      I may look around one day at 94 and realize that I’ve got everything figured out, but it’s folly to believe it so. To reach 94 would be an epic journey in and of itself. To reach old age with a sound mind, with the clarity of purpose burning within and a body capable of sustaining the drive, well, that would be a miracle. The odds are stacked against us humans. And yet people get there, and thrive well beyond that random number we call our age.

      Let’s see how it goes. I’d like to survive the madness we live in now, let alone try to skip to the end of the book to see how it ends. One page at a time is the proper way to immerse ourselves in a great book or a compelling life. It all goes fast enough already—tempus fugit—so do try to be here, now. All change begins within. The worst in us and the best in us are both awaiting which side we truly want to have emerge.

    • Being the Meteor

      “I wondered if I was starting a new era or if I was taking too much with me. This is the challenge of life, isn’t it? Moving forward without annihilating what has gone before. Knowing what to clasp onto and what to release without destroying yourself. Trying not to be the meteor and the dinosaur at once.” — Matt Haig, The Life Impossible

      There is a Latin phrase, “Vince Aut Morire” that translates to “Conquer or Die”. Forget the militaristic, testosterone-filled connotations in the phrase. We aren’t conquering others here, we are mastering ourselves. Mastery is reached through successfully navigating the obstacle course we call our lives.

      “Sure, in each moment we have never been so old, but we are of course also the youngest we will ever be.” — Matt Haig, The Life Impossible

      We are not getting any younger, friend. But we will never be as young as we are right now. So we ought to use this youthful vigor to do bold things with the time. This is our opportunity. That older version of us tomorrow will wish we’d used today better.

      Wishing for change won’t do the trick—we must be the meteor. Annihilating all that must go in hopes of a better tomorrow. In construction we must demo the old to make room for the new. We are no different. This is today’s mission, always and forever.

    • Living in Words

      “Write what should not be forgotten.” — Isabel Allende

      I am not gifted with a photographic memory. As a result, I take a lot of notes when I’m in meetings, I also take a lot of pictures to capture people in happy moments I’d like to reflect on one day, and of course, I write. This blog has captured in amber many thoughts of the age at which they were written, captured moods and emotions, captured faraway moments and COVID-era shelter-in-place thoughts. It’s the experience of living in words.

      Writing a daily blog is different from writing a novel or a poem or a song. It’s more akin to writing an editorial for the newspaper. It’s still writing, but it’s also more in the moment, versus the timeless wonder produced in a great novel. Even writing that, I know it to be untrue. If this is the last blog post I ever wrote, wouldn’t I aspire to timeless wonder before publishing it? We want to be remembered for something beyond the average, not for the random post we just mailed in that day.

      Still, writing every day creates an average. Write every day for years and we see trends. And hopefully we see the average rise. Why do it otherwise? Why not simply stop the blog and focus on a novel instead? It doesn’t have to be an either/or proposition, but wouldn’t the time be better served producing something unforgettable? Would a novel look better on a resume than a blog? Perhaps. But who says a blog, done every day for years, doesn’t become wonderful and timeless and maybe even unforgettable as well? It’s something to aspire to, since we’re here anyway.

    • The Doorway

      It doesn’t have to be
      the blue iris, it could be
      weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
      small stones; just
      pay attention, then patch

      a few words together and don’t try
      to make them elaborate, this isn’t
      a contest but a doorway

      into thanks, and a silence in which
      another voice may speak.
      —Mary Oliver, Praying

      I had lunch with a friend earlier this week. She asked me about my writing, wondering when I’d get back to publishing. I mentioned that I’ve been publishing every morning for years now. The blog hides in plain sight. It’s a marketing person’s nightmare I know. Yet here it is, as it always has been, if one should wish to find it. A quiet voice in the storm.

      I don’t write for views and likes—I write to enter that doorway Mary Oliver describes above. I share it because it’s not a journal, but my idea of creative output. The jury may be out on just how creative the output is, and I’m okay with that, simply because I don’t seek them even as I appreciate them. And appreciation is surely one reason to get up every morning to begin filling our blank page.

      There is also attention and awareness. I believe we are all aware as children but grow out of it through formal education, narrowing viewpoints and the hectic lives we embrace in the quest for success (whatever that is). Some never reach that state of wonder again, while some of us spend the rest of our lives working to grow back into it. May we all reach back into wonder before we reach the end.

      I aspire to write as efficiently, as beautifully, as a poet. To convey with brevity and emotional weight all that is encountered in this brief go at things. As this is published, it will be post number 2,850. Is that enough to say, or should I keep entering new doorways? The answer lies in how far we have left to go.

    • Let Go, and Let’s Go!

      “All great changes are preceded by chaos.” — Deepak Chopra

      If the opposite of chaos is order, then if follows that living an orderly life—what we may call our ordinary life—leads to more of the same. We find ourselves in a comfortable state and remain there, sometimes for years, until something changes. That change may feel chaotic, because it has disrupted what was our status quo. A rapid decline in health, job loss, death of a loved one, a politician who represents all that we feel is wrong in the world ascending to power—each represents rapid change dressed in what feels like chaos. What was orderly now feels chaotic. What’s so great about that?

      When chaos sweeps over us because of things out of our control, we feel the full weight of that change. It follows that it’s far better to implement change than to have change implemented upon us. The time to implement change is when things feel quite ordinary and rather comfortable. We must learn to introduce chaos to our routine far sooner than we’d like to. But it doesn’t have to feel chaotic if we change soon enough. It simply feels like a small step in a different direction. Repeat that step enough times and extraordinary things may happen. And what is extraordinary but a place far beyond ordinary?

      Ah, but this frenetic world we live in doesn’t always have the patience to wait for our precious habit formation to take shape. Fortune favors the bold, as they say. The alternative to incremental change may be to jump right into the deep end far sooner than we may be comfortable with. But what is comfort but an embrace of the status quo? Everything changes, including us.

      To change one’s life:
      1. Start immediately.
      2. Do it flamboyantly.
      3. No exceptions.
      — William James

      The thing is, we all die eventually (Memento mori). But why die incrementally, watching our lives erode, when we may boldly take the reigns on building a better life despite (and through) all the changes? Bold is immediate, it’s viewed as flamboyant, and it leads us to exceptional. The best way to remove a bandaid is to rip it right off. The moment of shock will wear off, and we adjust to the new normal. To embrace the chaos that ensues in rapid change is to align with Friedrich Nietzsche’s famous phrase, “That which does not kill us makes us stronger”.

      Seek stronger. Making chaos ordinary is nothing but embracing change as it comes. More, it’s being an agent of change in our own lives through deliberate action. Deciding what to be and going on to be it, again and again. Just think of the exciting stories we may write as bold change agents surfing the chaos of a lifetime, right to the end. Let go, and let’s go!

    • Forget About It

      “To get rid of what is passed on to you, you have to develop a forgettory instead of a memory.” — Alan Watts

      I have a series of regrets in my life that I think about now and then. Some are big, like not looking both ways before I tried to run across the street at the age of 10*. Ouch. Some are relatively silly, like not mentioning The Wall is my favorite Pink Floyd album when having a conversation about best albums with some wine-sipping chuckleheads I have a high regard for. One regret changed my life (and could have ended it), while the other changed how I remember that night with the chuckleheads. I may also regret picking up that word chucklehead too, but here it is again.

      We ought to remember some regrets for the lessons they offer, so we don’t make the same mistake again. And we ought to forget others, as carrying them with us for eternity detracts from the experience of living now, as opposed to living in the past. The past ain’t coming back, friend. The only way is forward. We can meet there one day, and talk of our plans for the future.

      Don’t get me wrong—there’s great value in memory. It’s our life, after all, and we are the sum of all those memories brought to life when we reflect on them. But we can’t forget to live today as we play our greatest hits and biggest flops in our heads. Life is unfolding ahead, awaiting our attention. So forget about it and focus on what’s possible today. Just be sure to look both ways before crossing the street.

      • – If memory serves me well, a big anniversary of that run-in with a car is coming soon.

    • Cats and Dogs

      There are people out there who love cats, and people who love dogs. I know some say that there are people who love cats and dogs equally, but they’re just saying that to be contrarians. That’s like saying you like all Girl Scout cookies the same when we all know there’s only one truly great cookie (Samoas, now known as Caramel deLites solely for the delight of the Girl Scouts marketing department).

      So why can’t we love both cats and dogs the same? Because they’re completely opposites. Dogs are ruled by affection first, and the stomach second. With cats, the stomach rules all. Any signs of affection are meant to cater favor for more food, and of course to lower our guard that they may gouge our eyes out. Never lower your guard with a cat. I believe it’s the only reason I still have my eyes to see just how manipulative these furry eating machines really are.

      We have a cat and a dog. The dog lives in constant fear of the cat, as cats are inclined to have it. The cat walks around knocking things over, scratching furniture and people, and looking for snacks (not necessarily in that order). The cat knows that I’m on to her trickery, and works to separate me from the herd, that I may be murdered in the night. She’s been working on the dog to be an accomplice, and angrily voices her displeasure that the pup would rather just snuggle with us, as a proper pet does.

      Since the cat hasn’t figured out how to take me out immediately, she’s doing it slowly by messing with my sleep score. Each night she waits until I slip into REM and then pounces on my feet to wake me up. Each morning she stealthily climbs atop the nightstand at eye level and begins meowing an hour before I generally get up. For those keeping score, that’s in the 4:30 AM range. We begin a ritual of pushing her off the nightstand, having her climb back up to be pushed away again, until sleep is no longer an option.

      My helpful bride, one of those people who says that they love dogs and cats the same, set up an automatic feeder to pour some dry cat food into a metal dish timed to release the food before the cat starts her morning wake up ritual. In theory this is a great idea. Right. Instead, the cat scrambles from her sleep position between us to get to that bowl in seconds. And that scrambling? You guessed it, it happens right across my, uh, midsection. Which does wonders for my sleep score.

      I mention all of this because I am not one of those people who say they love cats and dogs the same. I’m firmly on one side of this debate. In fairness to our two pets, I won’t mention which side I’m on. I do try very hard not to make it obvious. But seriously, they’re both a joy to have in our lives… in their own ways.

    • The Nature of a Sunbeam

      We speak of the sun’s light as “pouring down on us,” as “pouring over us” in all directions. Yet it’s never poured out. Because it doesn’t really pour; it extends. Its beams (aktai) get their name from their extension (ektainesthai).
      To see the nature of a sunbeam, look at light as it falls through a narrow opening into a dark room. It extends in a straight line, striking any solid object that stands in its way and blocks the space beyond it. There it remains—not vanishing, or falling away.
      That’s what the outpouring—the diffusion—of thought should be like: not emptied out, but extended. And not striking at obstacles with fury and violence, or falling away before them, but holding its ground and illuminating what receives it.
      What doesn’t transmit light creates its own darkness.
      — Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

      The first day of April is often thought of as April Fool’s Day. That can be fun or tedious, depending on how one thinks about trickery and which side of the prank we find ourselves on. At the risk of being overly serious, I think I’ll sit this one out and reread a favorite book instead.

      It’s April, and that brings us to the birth month of Marcus Aurelius. Perhaps that means more to me than to you, and that’s okay. But consider the nature of the man through the work that extends through time to us. The man transmitted light.

      And what of us? What do we transmit in our daily lives? Are we like sunbeams, extending hope and beauty and love as far as we can reach, or are we blocking the light from entering altogether? We must be active illuminators, friends, if we are to leave any room we enter better for our having been there. The nature of a sunbeam is to extend into the darkest reaches to bring light to these places too. Consider that a mission if you like, just to see how bright we can make the world this day.

      Have a look at the night sky sometime. Do we focus on the dark void or the stars? We are inclined towards light, for this is where life is sustained. We may choose to be light transmitters ourselves, and thus sustain life in the most inhospitable times. Isn’t it nice to shine a light on others, instead of shadow? Unlike darkness, light reflects when it reaches a surface. And the life we save may indeed be our own.

    • This Vessel

      “Do good, bestow kindness, strive for beauty, seek and find the river that leads to life everlasting, and draw from the fountain that never runs dry.” ― Allen Levi, Theo of Golden

      I needed a beautiful book for travel. As with people, beauty is not the outside sleeve, but rather that which is hidden within. Theo of Golden is such a book. The cover is rather ordinary. We must let it unfold page-by-page to get to know the character. This is a book for these angry times.

      We become what we consume, so why consume anger? Why not find a way to drink from a more beautiful stream? We may confront the world with eyes wide open, but also with a full heart and generous soul. Navigating towards a more beautiful life is a daily choice of accepting joyfulness as a natural state. Nurture this nature and watch it grow.

      If this all sounds rather naive, well, so be it. I’ve been there myself, angry and jaded by the state of the world and all that I cannot control. We confront it every day in everything from what the character in the White House just said to the person who just cut us off. These things are outside of us. What we carry within may be a cool stream of consciousness. A joyful life is a deliberate life, carried towards the sublime in this vessel we call our days. Just where is this one carrying us?