WHY SHOULD I CARE

  I make the distinction between ‘disbelief’ and ‘unbelief’. The one is actually a negative belief construct, that something is untrue: “Greed is not good” or “The earth is not flat” Those examples would be ‘disbelief’. The other is like the dollar that is not in my pocket, non existent. Even though my issue may seem trivial it is still my issue, like the faulty screen door latch that doesn’t snap shut. I can fix the latch but not the other. 
Do I believe he did this or she did that; what if I have no opinion? What if I simply have no reason to believe? That would be ‘unbelief’ but common usage begs otherwise, “Yes” or “No”. What I do believe is that clear, concise communication is hard to come by. By not knowing or not caring I have not disqualified the question. Answering one question with another question amounts to a logical fallacy in that it doesn’t address the first question, it only changes the subject. Still, maybe I should do that, “Why should I care?” 
I remember a time when I didn’t have time to dwell on such seemingly irrelevant trivia. But that was when I was paying into social security. It was a time when I would drop in to see my dad. I might find him sitting at the table with milk and cookies or walking around his yard, picking up twigs. At the time my concerns were narrow and short sighted. I didn’t want to believe that I would ever experience, (nothing better to do) than pick up twigs. Now I am on the other end of that Social Security transaction and I have plenty of time.
I enjoy good conversation. A good one can take only a few breaths or require hours to unfold but real dialogue needs to be launched, it needs to have a trajectory and either an end point or an agreement to let it rest. Repetitious remembering and recycling the same ideas fall short of meaningful conversation. I am not good at small talk and I often fail that test. Maybe that’s why I love telling Story. You know where it’s going and you trust the Muse to put the right words in your mouth. If you own the story you don’t need to think about the words. But dialogue needs to be measured, not unlike a tennis ball coming at you over the net. Unlike the hook at the end of a familiar story, the tennis ball’s fate hangs on every stroke. 
I like that about writing. I can juggle words to fit the need for as long as it takes. It may take what feels like a very long time to organize the best words but only a few seconds to read them. In conversation I sometimes do that, pause in mid sentence, searching for a better word. Sometimes the listener thinks I need help. Their well intended offering, finishing my sentence for me can piss me off and I want to say something rude. I know what I want to say but I don’t like the language my subconscious prompter has suggested. So I self edit as I speak and I must admit, it can be as much a distraction as it is an asset. I think about that sometimes after a big wind has cluttered the yard. With nothing better to do I rationalize for the sake of lawnmower blades; walking the yard picking up twigs, it makes perfect sense. 

THINK ABOUT IT ALL THE TIME

  This Human experience, I think about it all the time. Everybody starts the same way, like apples falling from a tree but that’s where the likeness ends. We all take the same leap but everybody gets a different ride. Biographers conduct interviews, draw from many sources, make the (cause & effect) connections and keep after it for as long it takes. It’s like reconstructing the recipe by sampling the pudding. For the reader the difference may be hard to see but telling one’s own story is different. An autobiography is vulnerable to a self serving conscience while biographers are not. Nobody wants to advertise their own worst self and it is not dishonest to put the best foot forward but the line between them is muddy at best. Stories that misrepresent either the good or the bad are soon exposed as whitewash or malice. Trying to get my own story right, no whitewash, no exposé, just follow the crumbs to wherever they go; I think about it all the time. 
I began by drawing the line between others expectations (being raised) and the meanings I took from it along the way (growing up). Somewhere in that compromise I started questioning (quietly, to myself) “Why this and not that?” and “This is more than I can believe.” As a naive kid who never challenged authority or rebelled, I just soaked it up, very slowly, but it accumulated never the less. All of us in my generation were raised and grew up but we were different apples from different twigs, maybe even different trees. Nature loves diversity. We keep getting the message that we are unique and that was a good thing but being too unique is dangerous. So color inside the lines. I was good at that, with reservations of course but still, who notices the quiet kid who conforms? This is where, in all of my self searching, that the story is at risk of losing its way. There are dozens of story killing dead ends beckoning from the bush. So I need be careful, don’t give in to that urge, stay away from that trap. 

        I came out of the military with a newly acquired sense of skepticism. Those years allowed for extra (growing up) time to accumulate experience, skills and making meaning. I resisted the patriotic, we take care of our own, reenlistment  propaganda. At 25 years as a college freshman I experienced the joy of discovery and the power of critical thinking. That was supposed to happen as a preteen but in my case, arriving late has never been a deterrent. I am still discovering, still asking the big questions; Why? How does this work? And after that: Well then, how does that work? More and more, the older I get, the basic meaning I get from navigating my culture is that nobody is in control. Everything is reaction and people often react with no forethought or sense of accountability. I feel a lot like Rip Van Winkle who slept for decades and woke up and old man, almost out of time. Like Rip I feel like I’ve missed out on stuff I should have stayed awake for but now is now and it’s all I have. I don’t want to spend it reflecting on what I didn’t do, making slow circles like a leaf in an eddy while the river keeps moving on. 
Robert Burns (18th century Scottish poet) put the human condition in context better than any clergy or political authority. “The best laid schemes of mice and men . . .” His poem, To A Mouse, rings with reason and candor making it unmistakably clear. In so many words he says, No matter how well you plan, whether a man or a mouse, there is no way to know how it will end. He tapped into the rule of unanticipated consequence (We don’t know what it is that we don’t know). So the best plan is just a plan. Unexpected things happen and if they work out for the better we take credit as if it were in fact, part of the plan. But in the human experience, the ability to redirect and place blame is more profitable than high performance. When shit happens we meed a place to hide and someone to blame. To that I would add, if there is a God or gods then they must be irrelevant spectators. 
I spend way too much time and energy ruminating on religion and God. Like a dog chewing on a worn out bone, I keep going back to it even though I would much rather chew on something else. But again, me trying to analyze how I got this way is well intended speculation. I like to think I know my own story but the first requirement for one's own story is that the good part should be grand and the bad part must be forgivable. So when it reaches the editor’s final cut it may turn out to be more fiction than fact. When you know that about yourself it changes the way you see others, all of humanity. What it means to be human depends on what one believes, not on the reality. For as long as humans can reproduce and replace generations that are passing thru, reproductive success would seem to be the bottom line. The truth is whatever we can agree on, civilized trappings, nothing more, nothing less. 
This whole piece is like mental gymnastics; should I do cartwheels or walk on my hands? Start somewhere, do something well and know when to give it a rest. Growing old is always better than dying young but then comes that caveat; what if I get bored? What if I learn that I’ve been wrong about everything? What if my followers figure out that I am just a foolish old man? What if nobody listens to me or misses me when I’m gone? Leon Trotsky (Russian revolutionary) is remembered as much for his (Old Age) quote as for his revolutionary zeal. He said, “Old age is the most unexpected of all things that can happen to a man.” Apparently he didn’t see it coming. I can see it coming and I try every day to be ready for it. But being ready requires I marvel at simple experiences like watching woodpeckers at my feeder. Every day is a good time to tell whoever you love that they are loved. Every day is perfect for listening to a favorite love song or steady, Delta Blues guitar licks. I think about it all the time.

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 . . .”

THE LIFE WE LEARNED WITH

  Movies used to  be the exception and not the rule but Pandemic has changed that for me. My DVD library is small by others standard but it takes up several book shelves. I also hooked up with Netflix and their shelf is endless; not very good but what they lack in quality they make up for in volume. Whenever I have exhausted the Netflix offering and come up empty I turn to my DVD’s. Last night I went back to my DVD’s, watched a 1984 film made when Robert Redford, Glenn Close and Robert Duvall were young, set in the 1930’s, revolving around baseball, as close to a perfect pairing as I can imagine. I’ve watched it several times, many times and it doesn’t get old. 
I’m not about to review the movie. If you haven’t seen it, go see it. But near the end Redford (the ball player) is trying to explain to Close, (his boyhood sweetheart) why he never came back to her. The best he could do was to tell her, “My life just didn’t turn out like I thought it would.” Her reply was the hook line for the movie. She told him, “I think we live two lives; the one we learn with and the one we live with after that.” In the movie, the good guys win, the bad guys crash and burn. The separated lovers reconnect. Redford meets his teenage son who he never knew existed and all the bittersweet turns to sweet. 
I think we live two lives; the one we learn with and the one we live with after that. When I hear great lines like that in movies I want to give a big thumbs up to the writers. This one captured nearly two hours of struggle and last chances, compressed into a single sentence. It spoke to me personally: some things need to be let go and other things need to be nurtured and kept safe but still, who has a crystal ball? All you can do is all you can do. You hope the learning was sufficient and the present is clear. The idea presumes that you know when you’ve bridged from the learning to the living. You pray for the power of hope and a shred of courage. There it is: if you can just muster some courage. I don’t think it comes with a handle. You can’t just grab hold and hang on. Courage isn’t easy, somebody has to move their feet. 
The life you learned with and the life you live with; one line made the difference between a good movie and a timeless life lesson. With Robert Redford and Glenn Close you knew it was going to end well. That’s what movies are for, to leave you feeling good. But tomorrow the sun will come up and I will have to improvise my own script and recruit a cast of characters. My movie has no guarantees and the ending, happy or sad, will be just a springboard into the next episode.