Get out of your own way and run.
Dance like no one is watching — write like no one is reading — just let the words flow — pour them across the page like a melonhead who just wants to see what he will write next — like a reader who doesn’t know what will happen next — it’s OK!
No one will care, and you’re safe flying about that way unless a piano is about to drop on your
>>>*!*! BONGGG !*!*<<<
A minute is a longer time than it sounds, and there are 60 of them every hour, 480 of them in eight hours.
If it only takes a minute to make a difference and change a life, that’s nearly 500 opportunities to make a difference. And that’s just today.Continue reading “The miracle of a minute”
He turned at the shout and eyed the new arrival, who stood in the dusty street brandishing a weapon.
Onlookers scattered for cover as he assessed the scene, no discernible expression on his face. He sighed.
“Violence is a last resort,” he said evenly to the newcomer. “I have no interest in hurting you. Now, that said, you don’t want to push me to the last resort.”
Undeterred, the newcomer attempted violence. He parried. The newcomer tried from the other flank. He deflected. The newcomer hit him straight on; he shielded.
Now the newcomer had him by the throat with one hand and brought the killing weapon toward his chest. And so, he resorted to violence.Continue reading “The Newcomer: A brief morality play”
“Life is short. Make sure you spend as much time as possible on the internet arguing with strangers about politics.” — a popular meme
There are (at least) two ways to respond to angry/hateful statements that you encounter on (anti-) social media: With anger/hate in kind, or with love.
How about saying, “We should talk”?Continue reading “We should talk”
The wonder of this moment
that is here and will never come again,
overflowing with oh so much life
the sunshine and the color
and the silence (or
of so much everything
all aroundContinue reading “quite here in the moments”
Listen, kid. Listen, lady. Listen, old man.
You say you want to do something with this life? You’re not content and you want to change things?
You say it doesn’t have to be this way? You’re right.
So what are you going to do about it?
It’s your life. You can fix it. You have the power.
You say it’s out of your control? Stop that.
You have the keys — right there, between your temples, and right there, connected to your wrists. Those belong to you, only you, and you can do anything you choose to do with your mind and your hands.
So what are you going to do?Continue reading “You have the power”
What to do when you capture lightning in a bottle:
1. Wait around with another bottle hoping it strikes twice.
2. Hug the bottle to your heart and never show it to anyone.
3. Put the bottle on a shelf or in a drawer and spend the rest of your days talking about that day you captured lightning in a bottle.
4. Share the lightning with everyone you meet. I mean, it’s lightning, right? It’s as bright and exciting as all get-out, able to shake buildings with its power. The world needs to see this!
Sometimes I have the foresight to make coffee before I go to bed. I load the water in the tank, pile the coffee grounds in the basket, and apply a sticky note to the front of the machine to remind me that all I have to do is press the “on” button to start the brew the next morning.
There came a morning when I was tired of it all. I dragged myself out of bed out of a sense of obligation and dragged myself around the house, resentful that I wasn’t still dreaming strange adventures or lost in oblivion, and generally ready to retire except for the fact that I had “real-world” obligations hanging over my head.
I grumbled into the kitchen and was caught short by the little sign on the coffee machine.
JUST PRESS ON.
Oh. Right.Continue reading “The zen of coffee making and persevering”
My E.E. Cummings book 100 selected poems,
purchased at the college bookstore nearly 50 years on,
has a scrap of paper left along the way to
bring me back to poem number 54,
“I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance”
like the first hundred times I read it,
I caught my breath in wonder.
I just went out to pick a poo that Willow had left near the front door. It is a beautiful night — warm, not hot — comfortable — bright and sunny, the light from the not-quite-ready-to-set sun bouncing off fluffy white clouds against a brilliant blue sky — and it occurred to me I have lived more summers than I have left to live.
It was not a sad thought, because it rarely occurred to me, in all those summer days past, to treasure the moment the way I just cherished this evening. It was a magic moment, even though its purpose was to pluck five lumps of dog feces off the the ground and drop them in a plastic bag — magic because I felt so grateful for being alive to experience it — for having the sense to notice the magic — for having a sweet 11-year-old dog who is still alive and being loved and loving and producing good solid nuggets of healthy waste — for living in this home where Cj and I have made our lives — for the air that I breathe and the love in my heart — for life itself — for the flowers she has grown to bring even more color to this colorful world — for the full tummy from a full meal that so many in this world will not have tonight — as E.E. Cummings wrote so brilliantly:
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
And I know how he felt when he concluded,
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
7:15 p.m., July 29, 2020