riff

And who IS the man who lives on Whimsy Avenue? Is he a playful goof who talks to puppies? Is he an old curmudgeon who desires to be left alone? Is he a folk singer with a new dog but the same old tricks? Is he the crazy widower who walks around the house talking to his dead wife? Is he the free speech absolutist who understands why the nazis were allowed to march through Skokie? Is he the silly goose who thinks “Love your neighbor, and everyone is your neighbor” is a valid philosophy? Is he any of the above? Is he all of the above? Is he, like everyone else, a complex creature who can’t be captured in a word or a phrase?

He is the man who stopped scribbling for a moment and looked out the window at the trees starting to turn across the highway, and the passing traffic, and the cloudy sky, and then turned to his two furry friends and looked around the room, the quiet room where the refrigerator and the dehumidifier had both quit in rare silence.

A goose caws over his shoulder, and his smartphone makes a blooping noise. He sets down his pen to see what the outside world wants.

“We need whimsy more than ever,” he speaks for the first time. One dog whines as if to say, “Fine. Put down the pen and rub behind my ears.”

The paradox of the upturned fedora

Thirteen months ago I came right up to the edge of launching a Patreon page, so I could start “monetizing” the blog by taking donations. I even wrote a little introduction titled “The upturned fedora.” I wrote:

– – – – –

A friend did me a huge favor. I knew he would do it; he’s that good a friend. And when I gave him money for doing the favor, he made it clear that he had had no expectations of payment. I am 100% sure he would have done it for free with no complaints. That’s the man he is.

I am the same, in my own way. I love to put words together, and I put these words out to the world because I want to share. I have always been on the “production” side of things, producing newscasts and newspapers and books and songs, and the sales side of things never interested me. I know if I worked hard enough at sales I could probably make more money than I do, but it definitely would be work, because my heart is in making words sing, and as much as I know people are willing to pay for singing words, I have little passion for the dance of reaching for golden rings.

Still, I know that money is a valuable tool for things like eating and maintaining my shelter, and so I occasionally remind you that I have written books that I think you might gain a little something from, should you care to purchase any of them. And now I have set up a Patreon account for people who would like to support these musings in a more material way. For now I’m not really offering “exclusive” content for my patrons, but I will give them free copies of any future books that come down the line — and the more patrons I have, the more resources I will have to produce more music — which is what singing words are, right?

Consider this the upturned fedora on the ground next to a street poet who will continue to do his thing whether you toss anything in the hat or not — and I thank you just as sincerely if you feed the hat or if you just listen and go your way with whatever my words have given you. As my dear friend said, I have no expectations.

– – – – –

It occurred to me last month that it’s long past time I either launched the Patreon page or forget the whole thing. And I recently decided to retire from the day job next spring, when I reach my 50th anniversary of starting a day job. It would be nice to have a little something with which to pay the bills when that happens, including the modest maintenance costs on this website, above and beyond the monthly Social Security payment. And so I hit “Publish” on the Patreon page.

And a month went by before I mentioned it to anybody. I wonder if I’m really serious about this.

Think on these things

“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable — if anything is excellent or praiseworthy — think about such things.” — Philippians 4:8

With that as a guiding principle, is it any wonder that I try not to write about politics? (Kidding, and mostly off-topic)

A friend recently recommended The Celestine Prophecy to me, and I found it to be valuable psychology that rang true in some ways but tended to ring false in its main goal of prophecy. I do want to focus on one of the ways that rang true.

Author James Redfield’s tome suggests that one road to higher consciousness is to sit still in a natural setting and reach out to see the beauty all around you. I did find — with nothing else to do except drive and listen — that becoming aware of the passing trees, the blue sky, the farm silos and other aspects of the view did bring me closer to that peace and calm one feels in the presence of natural splendor.

We get so caught in the daily grind and life that speeds past at 70 mph that it’s easy not to notice beauty even when we are surrounded by it. We are pounded by messages and people who are not true, not noble, nor remotely right or pure. It’s easy to see the world as ugly and repulsive, the very opposite of excellent or praiseworthy.

When we sit and reflect, though, when we stop and see the beauty in the simplest pleasures, like a wildflower, our mindset shifts and we see the true nature of the world. It’s a beautiful world filled with beautiful people. For whatever reason, a lot of time and effort is invested in distraction and misdirection, but there is plenty about our lives that is true, noble, right, pure, lovely and admirable.

All you have to do is stop, turn off the electronic toys, sit still and pay attention. What you see and hear can be breathtaking.