WHAT IS WISE & WHAT IS NOT

  A most rewarding aspect of writing and sharing this blog is that my readership is small. In some ways they are Godlike, at least the forgiving part. We may not agree on issues or beliefs but I have never been harshly judged for it. So I can sit at the computer and beg any question, I can question any idea, challenge beliefs and I can change my mind when I feel the need. God fearing people are uncomfortable with that kind of latitude but then I don’t fear God. I have no reason to believe he is the creator. I would think him a human creation not unlike Zeus and Homer Simpson. The human brain has a peculiar neural circuit that cannot accommodate the full knowledge and certainly not the consequence of our inherent mortality (a finite life span). God is the mental buffer (drug) that diffuses that suffering. It is painless, legal and respectable. Evolution has left us hardwired to Believe something (maybe anything) that gives us a purpose, and some eternal possibility. How we meet that need depends on lots of experience, how we derive meaning from it and who we listen to. I have fallen in with Joseph Campbell who said, “Life has no meaning. Each of us has meaning and we bring it with us to this life. It is a waste to be asking the question when you are the answer.” My little audience has given me license to go wherever the spirit leads and if nothing else, they can wander with me without getting their feet wet. Thank you!
It is Sunday and I went to church today, in the flesh. My vaccination status (2 + Boost)  has been documented, I wear a new KN95 surgical mask and we keep safe distance from each other. The sermon dealt both directly and indirectly with abortion. It was titled, “My Body, My Choice.” Not all of us agree on every issue but our compass needles all respond to a worldly force rather than a Faith based tradition. Still, I didn’t hear anybody defending the rights of a human embryo. We agree to disagree when it serves the greater good and It is very important that we all share the blessings of being embraced together within this community. So a church of unbelievers should not be a surprise, not even to a pseudo submissive, come to Jesus crowd. 
Changing the subject: (Deleted section) I just filled a page with grim stuff that I needed to vent but no one wants to hear. So I select and delete like it was never there. I would rather think about what is wise and what is not? Who knows the difference between wisdom and clever speech that is contrived to meet a self serving bias. If there is such a thing as wisdom it comes from personal experience and you can’t argue with it. You own your own wisdom and if you can’t trust it, what good is it? If somebody else’s wisdom sounds a lot like yours you should be skeptical. After all, it’s a lot easier to see their flaws than to fess up to your own. In any case, difficult as it may be, dredge up enough courage to keep your wisdom file updated. My own personal wisdom has been narrowed down to rules of thumb and they move around like birds in the bush. These are a few: 
#1 Today is the only day you can get your hands around so do something with it that would please your mother. 
#2 Being human makes us unique but is nothing to be proud of. 
#3 Being human is all we’ve got so reread #1. 
#4 Forgiveness is the letting go of a hot rock. It frees the victim by design and the guilty by default. 
#5 There is no universal truth other than; change is nature of nature. 
#6 is gender based if not outright sexist but never the less: Generally speaking, women are better suited and more responsive than men to doing the right (righteous) thing. 
#7 If you love someone then tell them so, tell them again. Then live up to your words. 
Some day I will add to this list but for today there must be something else I should be doing. 

PERFECT PARTNERS

  While volunteering for a local hospice group I once sat with a comatose lady who was near death. Her family was coming in from far away and my coordinator wanted someone from hospice to be there. In later life the lady had written a small book, had many copies printed and gave them away without reservation. Making small talk, her children recommended the read and offered me a copy. It was a rambling collection from her journey with Jesus and scriptures with backstory into her experience. I took it with a simple thank you. Small talk was just that. Most of the hour they spent there I gave them privacy from nearby. They left and with another 20 minutes to clear the building I put the book back on her bedside table and called my hospice coordinator; “Everything went well and I am done here.”
With an ever so short scan of her book I noted that her writing skills were limited but whoever edited the piece knew what they were doing. To her credit, her message was unmistakably clear. The idea that her story was important enough to her that she wanted it to endure even after she was gone, I thought it remarkable. It was her gift to all others and if nobody ever picked it up it wouldn’t be for her lack of effort. Writing a book requires a huge effort. I thought, “I could do that.” My religious odyssey ran parallel to her Belief for a couple of decades but all along the way I was looking for an off ramp. With all due respect and no hard feelings I default to Karl Marx and his view on religion; “The opiate of the masses.” Like a prescribed drug, if you need it you should have it. Like mud on my shoes, religion would have its moment and then be left outside on the porch to dry up fall away. My shoes would go on to serve me well without the mud.
I try to imagine what my autobiography would look like and it’s one of the few times my imagination has failed me. My memory is pretty good and all those years, all those places, so many people; I wouldn’t know how to begin. I have started several large writing projects only to stumble with the outline before I ever got to the story. I probably need an editor to keep track of the big picture. I do alright with vignettes and short stories but anything that needs an outline leaves me at a loss. But failure is not the end-all worst that can happen so I may give it another try. I have always believed that falling down and getting back up are perfect partners. There is something to be learned every time and that repeating cycle is the story of my life. 

I KNOW THE RULES

  Recently I was heating some tomato soup on the stove. I turned to do something else and got distracted for what seemed like only a moment. The burners on the stove are nested under the heavy cast iron grate and above the white enamel tray that is shaped to catch and collect any spills. I noticed the area under the pan of soup had turned the same color as the soup, the fire was out and I could smell gas. You don’t have to be a detective. My distraction took longer than I thought. It had boiled up the sides of the pan and over the edge, run down and across the bottom of the pan, dripping soup at every opportunity, quenching the flame. With the fire out, remaining tomato soup settled back down into a hot pan. I noticed the smell of gas, did the math and shut everything down. 
I hate it when I make a mess but had I known I was making a mess I would have done something different. My soup & sandwich were delayed for a few minutes but I am none the worse off. I have cleaned up that stovetop so many times I know exactly how many paper towels to tear off and when to switch to the big sponge, then to the smaller sponge with the squirt-spray cleaner. The old, familiar self anger had given way to resignation, simply doing what needed to be done. I still hate making the mess but I don’t hate myself for the making. Whatever got short changed in the process, it will get done. Time lost is a metaphor for time spent fixing stuff you should have done better the first time. Whatever I happen to be doing, time is just the bracket I use to frame it.
Still, I visualize the soup starting to steam, little circular currents foreshadow foam-like bubbles that will soon collect on the side of the pan. It doesn’t give any warning, just erupts up and out, down into the fire. My soup mess cleaned up quickly; not the first time. Thinking about the subtle, silent, implied warning; as if the steam were saying, “It won’t be long before I come up out of here.” it seemed to know I wouldn’t bet back in time but still it counts as a warning. I know we’re not supposed to attribute human attributes to non human entities (talking steam) but I do anyway.

        Before the steam went to a rolling boil it was more than steam, it was a sign. When it found its voice it made me think of a Denzel Washington movie, The Equalizer. The polite, peaceful Denzel found himself in a room full of Russian mobster-thugs and their kingpin boss. They insulted and challenged him trying to provoke a fight but he was unruffled. On his way to the door they mocked him as he turned the handle. Instead of walking out he pulled the door closed and locked it. Turning to them he offered, “You still have time to do the right thing.” He checked his watch, set the timer and stepped forward. When he checked his watch 0:28 seconds later all of the Russians were dead on the floor. In his calm demeanor Denzel made a calculated if not condescending disclaimer.  “You should’ve taken my offer, you should have done the right thing.” 
Cleaning up the sauce pan that had tomato soup dried inside and out, I imagined it telling me in Denzel Washington’s voice, “You should’ve stayed close, paid attention to the steam. That would have been the right thing.” The pan is clean, so is the stove top and there is more soup in the pantry. Lesson learned, at least for now. I won’t walk away from hot stuff on the stove again, not soon. 
Writing is usually therapeutic and I finish feeling better. Lately it has been difficult to get back up on the horse (falling off the horse metaphor). The Equalizer was a movie. Everybody got paid and went home happy. In the moment when I plunge into the first paragraph, that's different. My ideas are usually dark and unforgiving. If I want to write and finish feeling better I have to keep unfolding one experience after another until something reboots my compass. I think I’ve been dealing with depression all throughout the pandemic but denial and making believe only go so far. All of the classic symptoms are there. I know the rules, I did a year of guided recovery in 2001-02 and you would think I should have seen it coming. I have some serious work to do, writing will be part of it. The recipe calls for good rest, good diet, structure, vigorous exercise, help others (volunteer) and lean on your friends. Where would we be, how would I get by without my friends.

SKIP-SKIP-SKIPPING

  Once upon a time; there was a time when talking about the weather seemed to me like such a waste of time. We’ve got weather today, yes, and we’ll have weather again tomorrow. I’ve got things to do either way, wether or not. I suppose that “What do you make of this rain, eh?” it offers a convenient way into a conversation and that is fine. It is certainly less contentious than “Do you still beat your wife and cheat on your income taxes?” Maybe the weather dialogue is; maybe it has always been relevant and it was just me finding fault when it wasn’t there. Judgmental hubris and youth go together without much planning or effort. After all, weather is always a major factor in both what we do and how we go about it. 
I was always content leaning into the moment and that includes the weather. Make hay while the sun shines, take a nap in the shade. At the time I had more things to do than I had time to play with. Now that equation has gone upside down, not that I can accumulate more time just not too many demands on it. Long-story-short, winter is really wearing me thin. Playing outside in the snow used to be fun but I was strong and fast. Time has a way of undoing that equation as well. My mother was a strong voice for making the most of today, the day that the Lord had given us. When I wanted to be older she cautioned me not to wish my life away. Still, looking over my shoulder, wishing time to come back around comes easy, a rerun of busy-busy youth. 
Thank you Mom; I am so happy for today but when those first spring buds open up on the redbuds and the willows I’ll have  all the more reason to be smiling. When the furnace stops running all night and I can open the window, I will have another something to say ‘Thank you’ for. If and when Covid gives us a break I can think about timely travel to warmer climes. Susan Tedeschi (Tedeschi-Trucks Band) my favorite band, easy to find on YouTube. She sings a wonderful song, ‘Everybody’s Talkin’ and it tells us; “I’m going where the sun keeps shining, through the pouring rain; Going where the weather suits my clothes . . .” I catch myself humming, even mouthing the words. “Banking off of the northeast winds, Sailing on a summer breeze; skipping over the ocean like a stone . . .” 
I remember a February not so long ago in a little beach town down in South Baja with sea turtles, fish tacos and fresh avocados. That winter felt more like a reward than an assignment. I’m not feeling that right now but hope is a great motivator and I can always spend from that account. 

“Skip-skip-skipping over the ocean like a stone . . .”