Contemplation

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Writing has alluded me for many months. Living through the past several years of stress has taught me, once again, that there is a season for everything. Hence, my absence of putting thoughts onto paper; not that anyone was holding their breath! I wasn’t, but felt the need to record a moment in time when I was blessed by someone’s kindness. This was a time where I needed a man’s closeness.

Struggling with responsibility and ‘coming of age’ in my late teens, I was a bit of an emotional mess even though most didn’t notice (or so I thought). My folks were divorced (no judgement) and I didn’t have a dominant male figure in our home. I was working on my car, a 1970 Roadrunner big block, which needed a gear replaced in the rear differential. With the car jacked up I tried and tried to loosen the nut on the gearbox. I had a cheater bar four foot long and still couldn’t loosen the nut. Super frustrating.

Steve, my next-door neighbor, saw me and came over to ascertain what the issue was. I must have shown my frustration by throwing a few tools while acting out my immaturity. He simply asked if he could help. “Of course”, and “Please do” I happily replied. After explaining my issue he immediately crawled under the rear of the car with wrench and bar in hand. He was a big guy and muscular, and it took him several grunting tries until the nut broke loose. He got a bit dirty and soiled his clean clothes. He didn’t care about that.

Instant relief. I could now finish my replacement project. This was my only source of transportation, and I needed the car for work, dating, errands and just driving around with my buddies. Cars back then were associated with a guy’s identity, and I thought my ride was pretty cool. Ah, the follies of youth.

Steve later invited me over for a cold one and to meet his wife. He offered me a brief period of brotherhood which I had never known. Buddies, yes, but not an older brother. Shortly thereafter he and Ann moved, and I lost a wonderful neighbor. But I never lost the memory of a generous man coming to my aid and treating me like an equal. For some reason beyond my comprehension, I have recently and often thought of Steve and this incident.

I hope he is doing well. Is it possible to love someone without really knowing much about him or her?

I believe so.

r e s t

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Every trip we have taken to a different locale far away from our familiar territory is a pause in Life’s normalcy. Some trips are exciting and invigorating while a few may be endurance travels, but the thing to remember is that we are removed from our comfort zone.

Recently, we visited a tropical country with jungles, exotic wildlife, oceans and beaches, and a very different standard of day-to-day living. Such a vacation was enjoyable and educational, and at the same time humbling as we are reminded once again how blessed we are to live freely, safely, having our needs met (and so much more than we really need to live a full life).

Not all vacations are continually restful nor peaceful, but they do allow us to pause and hopefully return a bit refreshed-after recovering from the traveling aspect of distant destinations! Moving to a different city or country can result in the same feelings after the settling-in process is completed. I wonder at times what it is that prompts me to explore places not yet seen or even known to me until research has revealed them. I suspect, like many of you, that I seek a bit of adventure, enlightenment, engagement, challenge and rest. Upon my return from some idyllic destination, I seem to be more energized, wanting to repeat the trip in the future. However, there have been a few vacations and trips which taught me a great deal more about myself but which I have no desire to repeat. This is to be expected simply because the ups and downs of vacations and trips mimic our daily lives. Few of us ascend to a bucolic alpine meadow and remain there indefinitely.

Rest can be elusive and even uncomfortable, especially for us ‘doers’ whom always need something to focus on in order to be distracted from the unpleasantries of our trials and failures. Boredom has become a neglected part of our lives and seems to negatively affect our psyches, especially in our energized world of instantaneous gratification. But I am learning that to be bored has its’ advantages, forcing us to put the smart phone and computer down, turn off the news and so-called influencers, and simply pause and imagine this life we have been given to experience. And, what we have to offer in return.

I recently came across this devotion from John Ruskin which speaks of musical ‘rests’ and how we perceive similar pauses in our daily journeys. I find his analogy sublime.

There is no music during a musical rest, but the rest is part of the making of the music. In the melody of our life the music is separated here and there by rests. During those rests, we foolishly believe we have come to the end of the song. God sends us times of leisure by allowing sickness, disappointed plans, and frustrated efforts. He brings a sudden pause in the choral hymn of our lives, and we lament that our voices must be silent. We grieve that our part is missing in the music that continually rises to the ear of our Creator. Yet, how does a musician read the rest? He counts the break with unwavering precision and plays his next note with confidence, as if no pause were ever there.

T I M E

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Time seems to be a man-made concept created to give our lives some sort of logical order. Our existence in this time-like environment is similar to a blip on a radar screen, but a glorious one, at that. I have thought a great deal about time this past year. Too many deaths; some expected and some sudden. Most passings are of the older crowd, but a few are far too young to have occurred, but they did.

This is not a morbid post even though I speak of death. No pun intended, but death is a fact of this life. What we accomplish and who we become, between birth and death, is deemed by many as a way to define us. We may become financially successful, intellectually and/or academically prominent, creative beyond our wildest imaginations, philanthropic to an excess we can’t comprehend, athletically superb, or simply average (as are most of us). But what of our very essence; the most significant aspect of who and what we really are – our souls?

Today is my dad’s birthday. He would have been one hundred years old had he lived past his sixtieth birthday. I was a young man when he died. I have outlived him in years, yet memories abound even though I spent less than a third of my time with dad while he was alive. Time…what does it really mean?

Recently, I watched a documentary called Blue Zones which is about Centenarians. The researcher identified half a dozen areas around the world where the populations lived well past their mid-nineties and had above average health. It was insightful to learn what dynamics shaped their longevity and good quality of life, and I came away realizing that I can put into practice much of what I learned. However, my goal is quality over longevity, but to have both could be a bonus.

Several songs about Time have been playing in my head: Time by Pink Floyd is probably the most notable song about this concept. Jim Croce’s Time in a Bottle is beautiful. Another rock song is Fly Like and Eagle by The Steve Miller band where Steve sings about time slipping away. Then, there is this Alan Jackson song which melts my heart when I hear it, and as I sing along with Alan, who wrote it. Rather than sing it, I chose to list the lyrics below. I hope it causes you to reconsider Time. Enjoy!

Remember when I was young and so were you. And time stood still and love was all we knew. You were the first, so was I. We made love and then you cried. Remember when.

Remember when we vowed the vows and walked the walk. Gave our hearts, made the start and it was hard. We lived and learned, life threw curves. There was joy, there was hurt. Remember when.

Remember when old ones died and new were born. And life was changed, disassembled, rearranged. We came together, fell apart, and broke each other’s hearts. Remember when.

Remember when the sound of little feet was the music we danced to week to week. Brought back the love, we found trust. Vowed we’d never give it up. Remember when.

Remember when thirty seemed so old. Now lookin’ back, it’s just a steppin’ stone. To where we are, where we’ve been. Said we’d do it all again. Remember when.

Remember when we said when we turned gray. When the children grow up and move away. We won’t be sad, we’ll be glad. For all the life we’ve had. And we’ll remember when.

For Cheryl

An Abrupt Change of Scenery

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Heavy snow laden branches stretching out as if grasping for something to hold them up. The previous day these same branches were void of anything but a few birds and squirrels. Winter asserted herself with a vicious storm which swept across much of the continent.

As I study these tree branches; roots, mycelium, and tendrils come to mind. Even human nerves and blood vessels seemingly appear as these thread-like tenacles. The snow clings to bark like urchins to rocks. After the snow stopped and the temperature dipped, the wind gusted heavily, and the snow began to fall, but not all of it.

Like all storms, calm eventually replaces havoc. The sun will shine tomorrow, but remnants of clouds will still float by to remind us of nature’s fury. I shudder when I contemplate what it would be like to be trapped in the wilderness during such a storm; with no shelter, no food, inadequate clothing, lacking reassuring direction, no cell phone, and faced with the prospect of trying to survive by my own wits. Would I be up to the task? Would I lose hope and perish? Or would I rise to the occasion and push on until I found relief?

I may never experience such an ordeal, but I want to believe that I would push on and survive…to live another day. Whether the quest be called courage, ‘the will to survive’, or sheer stubbornness, the result would be the same…appreciation for another opportunity to breathe, to laugh, to not squander the precious time I have left in my life. I certainly don’t know what tomorrow (or even the rest of today) may offer me in the way of challenges or blessings, but what I do know is this: cherish each pleasant moment and make wonderful memories with those we love most.

e v a n e s c e n t

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The new year, 2024, has dawned, and has prompted me to think about 2023 and what lies ahead. No resolutions or singing Old Lang Syne with drunken friends. Nor did I watch the big ball drop at the stroke of midnight in Times Square or shoot off fireworks. Boring, I know, but January 1st is just another day, no more profound than any other day, but no less profound, either. For some, 2023 was a banner year, and for far too many it was the opposite. Based on various polling, it appears that many of us look to the future with a bit of trepidation as uncertainty looms in every sphere of our personal and collective lives. Fear, mistrust, disunity, anger and hostility in what were once peaceful places has replaced feelings of security and optimism.

However, I believe we know intuitively that physiologically abandoning ship is not a good option. We cannot lose hope for a better tomorrow. At the same time, I believe it is imperative that we understand our earthly lives are transient. As the Apostle James stated, “Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while then vanishes.” A realistic perspective is vital in moving forward during the coming year; not a doomsday outlook, but an honest one.

Evanescent is an apt word to describe our world and our existence. The literary definition means “something that will soon be passing out of sight, memory, or existence: quickly fading or disappearing: a shimmering evanescent bubble”. The physics’ definition denotes “a field or wave that extends into a region where it cannot propagate and whose amplitude therefore decreases with distance”.

There is nothing particularly special about these photographs, except for how they tie into the definition as stated above. Most everyone has seen clouds pass-by overhead. Eventually, they will dissipate into atmosphere, seen no more. Ocean waves, even Tsunami size waves, eventually dissipate and recede to the body of water they came from with their energy depleted…placidness.

For every sunset there is a sunrise. For every cry there is a laugh. For every valley there is a peak. For every desert there is an oasis. For every tragedy there is miracle. For every broken heart there is a healing salve. And, for every death there is new life. I could expound further, but that’s not necessary. What is imperative, at least in my mind, is that I have come to understand the brevity of life as well as the daily opportunity to experience it sublimely.

I readily acknowledge that I am not living in a war zone nor in extreme poverty nor under oppression. So, many may say that what I have espoused thus far is pollyannish thinking, and I understand this reaction. I also acknowledge that I don’t know how I would react while experiencing such horrific conditions. Like all of you, I have had my share of trials and triumphs this past year, although the trials did seem to be more abundant. But this is a very biased comment. Truth be told, I am blessed in so many ways that I don’t deserve.

Hopelessness is like a cancer as it slowly destroys our souls, dimming our inner light and leaving us bitter and empty. The world is a mess. To say otherwise would be in denial of the obvious. And we can do little to change it in the grand scheme of things. Not what we want to hear, but I believe this is the truth. There is good news, though. I came across this quote yesterday which was made by an anonymous French priest, “God doesn’t ask you to change the world. He asks you to do something much more difficult-to change yourself”. We can attend seminars, devore self-help books, join social media groups, make new year resolutions, etc., but to what avail? I believe the only way for self-change to stick, to be truly successful, is to seek help from the One who knows us most intimately. And, if we allow God to assist us in changing for the better, our world will be affected positively.

Happy New Year !

Yesterday

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“Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they’re here to stay. Oh, I believe in yesterday”. The Beatles

I found out yesterday that my best childhood friend died last week. Bob and I were mates from elementary grades through high school, and a bit beyond. He was my best man in our wedding and a good friend to Cheryl, too. We haven’t been in personal contact for years, but he is indelibly etched in my fondest remembrances. Writing this piece creates a few tears as I realize that I cannot reach him again as was our plan for next year.

I ask myself, “Do I miss Bob that much or is it the memories I miss so desperately?”. Both, I conclude, because he and they are intricately tied together. My childhood and coming-of-age years are a mixed-bag so-to-speak. They were some of the most wonderful days of my life. If you’re like me and led a somewhat ‘normal’ life, they conjure up a potpourri of feelings ranging from extreme exuberance to numbing insecurity. Some of the mischief Bob and I got into was just plain craziness, and surprisingly we survived.

No matter, as those days are behind us. However, my association with Bob did positively contribute to my becoming a more responsible person (however one wants to describe this attribute). Although I literally missed decades of spending time with my friend, I believe his integrity and easy-going attitude, honed while still young, helped me navigate a particular dysfunctional period of my youth.

Lewis Carroll once quipped, “It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then”. I have pondered this statement and am still trying to discern if I agree with it. But what I do know is that life’s experiences affect us in countless ways. There are no “Do Overs” and dwelling on regrets doesn’t benefit anyone. Fortunately, I do believe in the positive power of “Fresh Starts”.

Regardless of where one may land while contemplating Lewis’ point-of-view, there seems to be something wonderful about ‘living in the moment’. As Carly Simon famously sang, “These are the good old days”. Let’s hope so, anyway.

Falling Leaves

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It’s that time of year when Summer begins to relinquish her hold and Autumn makes her presence known. Falling leaves are indicative of Winter’s forthcoming threat, but before the trees are bare and the days are even shorter and the temps much colder, Fall presents us with a sublime panorama. We, in the Midwest, are at the very early stage of leaf color change. It will be at least sixty-days before most deciduous trees are baren. Eastern America begins this process sooner and is more vibrant due to an abundance of hardwoods. But, enough about nature’s seasonal changes that most of us are familiar with.

These Cottonwood leaves fell into our birdbath during the course of several dry and windy days. I simply arranged them in the center pedestal. They dropped, not because it was Autumn, but due to shedding as a way to survive drought and preserve energy. Once Cottonwoods start to shed leaves, they fall like rain. Fewer green leaves still dance in the wind. Cottonwood leaves look similar to Aspen leaves. Both have white trunks in addition to similar appearing leaves. Cottonwoods grow fast and tall and are most often found near sources of water like streams. They are Kansas’ state tree (fun fact).

As I witnessed these leaves fall and will soon witness many more, I was drawn to the thought that people are a lot like falling leaves. From birth until death we fall many, many times. Whether the falls are a result of circumstances beyond our control or are caused by our own missteps, human frailty dictates we will fall. Some falls result in nothing more than bruises to our egos while others are very serious and result in permanent damage or loss. Falling leaves, we are.

As with healthy trees, the leaves will return, emerging from winter’s slumber. Unhealthy trees may not see a return of their leaves…much like some of us. To fall is not such a bad thing. In fact, falling is necessary to growth, and wellness. The key, like that of trees, is to get up (grow back) after we fall. It doesn’t matter how hard or how far we fall; what matters is what happens after we do. I know post this sounds a lot like a ‘self-help’ mantra which is definitely not my purpose. Rather, I write to encourage without offering advice.

I have fallen so many times and in so many ways that defy my getting back up each time. This is not a “Look at how awesome I am” statement, but the truth. Only by the grace of a loving God do I owe my existence. Mostly, I recall the reasons I have fallen, and can candidly say that many of those times were not my fault…but enough of them were. And, I take ownership of those events. As for the falls which were the result of others, I try to learn from those experiences and not repeat the same behaviors of the quilty parties. I have forgiven. I learned a long time ago a very essential truth: forgiveness benefits the forgiver and is critical to moving forward, even if the forgiven don’t respond in like manner. Sometimes the ‘moving forward’ has been a crawl, and occasionally a sprint, but was usually a marathon effort (I have never run a marathon but felt like I have!).

This image is dull…much like our lives seem to be. I could have enhanced it but chose not to. I didn’t see the benefit of changing something as it is into something that it is not…not after writing this post. Certainly, there are many photographs I adjust to make them seem more alive, but not this one. I wanted to present these fallen leaves just as they are, dull and slowly decomposing. Hollywood, tabloids, social media sites, news, government, etc. may offer us loads of pizzazz, but that’s all fake. Falling and fallen leaves are real.

C A D E N C E

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Summertime creates an outdoor atmosphere where all manner of sounds are generated during each twenty-four hour period. I have been reminded frequently, and lately, of the myriad natural sounds which enter through my ears and resonate inside my being.

Sitting on our deck, we hear the drone-like humming of hummingbird wings as they arrive at our feeder to drink their liquid energy. Cicadas chant their daily mantra like a wind-up music box…sometimes so loudly that we have to vacate the deck chairs for the couch. Crows squawk irregularly, but when they do it’s like listening to neighbors having an outdoor party-complete with arguments!

Birds chirp and sing. Hawks screech as they glide across the sky. Squirrels make unusual noises among their specific communities. Coyotes and bobcats make their presence known nocturnally via howls and hoots. Leaves rustle in unison like magic flutes as the invisible wind whips past them.

These daily and nightly noises are like an orchestra’s cacophony of sounds as the musicians tune their instruments immediately prior to the performance. Audible chaos turns into a symbiotic union of beauty. How Beethoven continued to create musical masterpieces as his deafness increased daily is beyond my comprehension.

I submit that nature’s sounds may seem like that of a human orchestra tuning their instruments, but with one exception. Nature’s instruments are pre-tuned. They’re also pre-programmed. Together, nature creates the perfect cadence of sounds. This auditory resonance can be tuned-in or tuned-out depending on whatever is grabbing our attention at a specific time and place. Similar to a practicing pianist whose instructor uses a metronome for tempo adherence, so, too, the natural sounds we hear have their own steadying affect.

Obviously, this post isn’t about high-quality photographic images, but leans more towards introspection, of sounds, of life’s drumbeats, and of their place in our well-being. I submit that what we listen to (hear) is just as important as what we see, smell or taste. Anyone who has spent time at an oceanside beach and listened to the waves reach and retreat from the shore must admit there is a calming effect to this rhythmic dynamic. The same is true for listening to water flowing down a mountain brook or bubbling in a fountain.

Would it be presumptuous of me to suggest that each of us could benefit from receiving some type of calming cadence in our daily life? Even if it’s only for a few minutes? With so many distractions and noises bombarding us constantly, I know I need this momentary peace to reset my inner metronome. Can you sense that I’m aging? Rhetorical question for sure!

Neighborhood Wildlife

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We are fortunate to enjoy a variety of native critters that visit our back yard. They come out of the wooded area behind our home. Mostly, they seek the bird seed which the birds peck from the feeder and the rest falls to the ground.

Our biggest critter is deer which feed on the honeysuckle shrubs, and occasionally bird seed. Far off, and on rare sightings do we see bucks, but they seldom come near our yard.

We try to discourage deer due to deer ticks, but they are fun to watch browsing the bushes. We definitely don’t do anything to attract racoons due to their ability to wreak havoc and carry disease, but recently a mom and her pups came into our yard to eat corn under the bird feeder. They are cute rascals with their bandit faces and human-like fingers.

In this particular instance, mom climbed the tree, came down the cord and shook the bird feeder to scatter the seed to the ground. Clever animals.

Squirrels, bunnies, and chipmunks visit us multiple times a day. Food is a powerful motivator. We even had a large female snapping turtle lay eggs in the sloped hillside next to the woods. We have an array of birds which frequent the feeder: cardinals, several varieties of sparrows, chickadees, junco’s, blue jays, and woodpeckers. Plenty of robins and thrashers, too, but they prefer worms and grubs. Rather than bore you with bird photos, I’ll simply share a few a more photographs.

The ducks and geese photos were taken while on a walk nearby and not in our back yard. However, it’s probably only a matter of time before these Canadian geese visit us as they have little to no fear of humans, and they are everywhere.

We have seen and heard coyotes, bobcats, turkey vultures, owls and a variety of hawks. Surprisingly, very few snakes even though there is water nearby. Perhaps the previously mentioned predators keep them in-check.

Later the same day, after I posted this blog, and after stating we see seldom see a buck, this guy shows up in a clearing in the woods. Oh well, surprised again!

Most of these images were taken via my cell phone through windows; hence the quality isn’t he best.

Unknown species.

Not Your Great Grandma’s Quilt !

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Recently, I attended the Kansas City Regional Quilt Festival in Overland Park, Kansas. The large convention center was roughly divided in half with a plethora of local and national vendors on one side and hundreds of large, suspended quilts on the other side. The judging had already taken place within various quilting categories-many beyond my understanding. However, the visual effects were not lost on this novice on-looker. To be fair, there were many lovely and intricately crafted traditional quilts which won awards and were pleasing to view. However, I have chosen to reveal some of the more modern designs which are equal to fine paintings in my opinion. Much of the stitching is amazing and the colors are so vivid. Some designs are whimsical and others geo-like patterns. I marvel at the dedication in terms of time and effort to create such masterpieces. I hope you enjoy this brief sampling of quilts as much as I did. Happy viewing !

P.S. There is absolutely nothing wrong with our great grandma’s quilts nor any of the traditional designed labor-of-love quilts. We have one !