Our lives are magic

BACK TO THE ARCHIVES: When I look for something I wrote awhile ago to make up for the fact that I don’t have anything new to serve up, I usually go back to what I was thinking five or 10 or 15 years ago — so today I randomly went back seven years to see what I was writing about then. This is from Feb. 15, 2019.

I study Ray Bradbury because I wish to convey joy and wonder the way he does with his words … or Paul Harvey.

I’ll always remember Paul Harvey describing the amazing car of the future, rhapsodizing about its many features and technological wonders for three or four minutes, and then revealing he had just described his new 1966 Oldsmobile Toronado.

Ray Bradbury and Paul Harvey were so good at using words to create that excitement in your chest as you breathe more rapidly because what you’re seeing is so wondrous … to call the reader or listener’s attention to the miraculous right before your eyes …

On the other side of this pane of glass, the wind howls. And the air is so cold that my flesh would freeze in minutes.

Yet here I am, barefoot, wrapped in a big comfortable easy chair, a bright light over my shoulder and springlike temperatures as I calmly write in a journal.

This is not the grateful warmth of a fire built in a cave or crude shelter. It’s a cushioned bubble of comfort that my ancestors would consider luxury.

Like Bradbury and Harvey, I want to pick up the ordinary, hold it up and proclaim, “Look! See! Isn’t this fine?”

So much we take for granted would have looked like magic not so long ago, and but for the hard work of mind and muscle to make it so, it would all still be possible only by magic. But the idea was conceived and the work was done, and today we reap the benefits of a better life where comfort and warmth through bitter winter is possible after all.

If we want a life even better than this, we need to conceive it and do the work. If we wish to maintain this life, we need to do the maintenance work.

While you’re busy working, there’s little-to-no time to squabble over what someone else has earned … or whether someone else has squandered … or other petty quarrels. You just work, and the world gets better for your efforts.

Imagine a better world and get down to making it. That’s all there is to it …

Make no mistake: It’s simple to say and so hard to accomplish.

But still: Do the work.

The view out the window

I have a to-do list in the other room next to the laptop, but I’m not going to fetch it because I want ready to dive into the electronic world just yet. It’s OK to just sit and look out the window and reflect and write before confronting “reality,” isn’t it? We don’t need to tap into the network and be assimilated through all of our waking hours. Resistance is not futile. Viva the revolution.

“Resist!” cries the mob. But what are we resisting? The people who cede their power to the government have been pushing back and forth, trying to force different styles of oppression on the rest of us; one person’s oppression is another person’s “the way it ought to be,” and they’re both generally opposed to actual liberty. Their conversations boil down to “I know you are, but what am I?” Today’s resisters forgave their guy when he was the oppressor in charge.

Is it possible we could live in a world where we love one another, live, and let live? I don’t know, we’ve never tried it. Who will let go of their hate first? Who will accept their quirky neighbors first?

I’ve been trying to adopt a lifestyle of “Love God and love my neighbor.” “Love God” does not mean calling out or fighting people who love God differently from me, who love a different God, or who don’t believe in God at all, because doing so would involve not loving my neighbor. See how simple it is?

But people have a problem with people who see things differently. I wish that could stop, but all I can control is my own reactions. Still, that’s everything. That’s what Gandhi meant when he said, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” It starts with me — or, in your case, it starts with you.

Seize the moment

A sweet quote crossed my social media feed the other day. It goes like this:

“Life’s short … You don’t get to live this twice. This is it, the messy, beautiful, imperfect ride we call life. The late-night talks. The reckless laughter. The tiny wins no one claps for. So take the risk. Tell people you love them. Chase the things that set your soul on fire. Dance even if you look ridiculous. Stop waiting for the “right” moment, this is the moment. Make it count.”

There was no name attached to the quote, and I wasn’t able to find out who wrote it using my usual tricks. Did the author send it out into the world anonymously? Probably not.

But, as some people say in these days, the exhortation hit me in the feels. It hit me because there have been more than a handful of times I hesitated at the brink, on the verge, and ended up not doing. Life has turned out just fine, but every so often I think about one of those moments and wonder — “What if —?”

I think a worthy goal would be not to collect as many “what ifs.”