Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is a daring adventure or nothing at all.
-Helen Keller
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Loving the Fool
Per Rob Brezney:
Declare amnesty for the part of you that you don't love very well. Forgive that poor sucker. Hold its hand and take it out to dinner and a movie. Tactfully offer it a chance to make amends for the dumb things it has done.
And then do a dramatic reading of this proclamation by the playwright Theodore Rubin:
"I must learn to love the fool in me—the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries. It alone protects me against that utterly self-controlled, masterful tyrant whom I also harbor and who would rob me of human aliveness, humility, and dignity but for my fool."
Declare amnesty for the part of you that you don't love very well. Forgive that poor sucker. Hold its hand and take it out to dinner and a movie. Tactfully offer it a chance to make amends for the dumb things it has done.
And then do a dramatic reading of this proclamation by the playwright Theodore Rubin:
"I must learn to love the fool in me—the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries. It alone protects me against that utterly self-controlled, masterful tyrant whom I also harbor and who would rob me of human aliveness, humility, and dignity but for my fool."
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Half-light Serenade
Check the email, type the needed documents... another day of corporate drudgery lingers too long. I pry myself off-leash for a moments drive to the post office and fast food, before returning to the daily ball & chain.
However, it only takes a second before the air around my ears stirrs with something exciting and different. Did someone put speakers in the parking garage? Joyfully, I discover no. This aural bliss is nothing short of live clarinet jamming.
Having lived the first two years of college with a classical clarinet major, the sound of that particular instrument is one I know very well, and one I can't resist. Linked to memories of youth and discovery, the clarinet speaks to me in a way that few other instruments can.
I follow the sound, like a dog on a scent, to the edge of the garage. Stretched out next door is a parking lot, but across that, a quiet unassuming apartment complex provides a home for some melodic soul. 3rd floor, just inside the screen door to his balcony, he sways, gently playing. I stand transfixed at the railing, riding on the tune. Melancholy, but not despairing, it dips low and trills up, and feels akin to a magic carpet.
I wonder if he knows he has an audience, or even if he cares. Is he playing only for himself, or would he be amused at the girl, holding KFC in one hand, car keys in the other, slowly swaying at the garage's edge? With my eyes closed, it ceases to be a parking lot in the vast Lost City of Angels.... it is only a moment, rare and magical (like today's simmering storm clouds), that feeds the soul and keeps one afloat.
However, it only takes a second before the air around my ears stirrs with something exciting and different. Did someone put speakers in the parking garage? Joyfully, I discover no. This aural bliss is nothing short of live clarinet jamming.
Having lived the first two years of college with a classical clarinet major, the sound of that particular instrument is one I know very well, and one I can't resist. Linked to memories of youth and discovery, the clarinet speaks to me in a way that few other instruments can.
I follow the sound, like a dog on a scent, to the edge of the garage. Stretched out next door is a parking lot, but across that, a quiet unassuming apartment complex provides a home for some melodic soul. 3rd floor, just inside the screen door to his balcony, he sways, gently playing. I stand transfixed at the railing, riding on the tune. Melancholy, but not despairing, it dips low and trills up, and feels akin to a magic carpet.
I wonder if he knows he has an audience, or even if he cares. Is he playing only for himself, or would he be amused at the girl, holding KFC in one hand, car keys in the other, slowly swaying at the garage's edge? With my eyes closed, it ceases to be a parking lot in the vast Lost City of Angels.... it is only a moment, rare and magical (like today's simmering storm clouds), that feeds the soul and keeps one afloat.
Gratitude
Dear Universe,
This "beautiful-swirly-grey-clouds,-strong-cool-breeze,-imposing-storm-thing" that you've currently got going on in SoCal...... It's GORGEOUS!!!
Please keep up the good work.
Much Love,
Teece
P.S. Although I applaud your work here in LA, please lay off the earthquakes in Florida. Geez, don't they have enough to cope with during Hurricane Season?
This "beautiful-swirly-grey-clouds,-strong-cool-breeze,-imposing-storm-thing" that you've currently got going on in SoCal...... It's GORGEOUS!!!
Please keep up the good work.
Much Love,
Teece
P.S. Although I applaud your work here in LA, please lay off the earthquakes in Florida. Geez, don't they have enough to cope with during Hurricane Season?
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Loss, in black & white
I find an odd poignancy in this story.
Ya Ya tried her best to keep her cubs safe, and in doing so, wore herself out, not properly eating or sleeping. This exhaustion caused her to drop the smaller baby, mid-feeding, and collapse onto the fallen body, crushing the tiny offspring beneath her.
She is “inconsolable, wailing and looking for her baby after its body was taken away from her.”
Although the baby was one of a set of twins, and the elder cub remains alive and in good health, Ya Ya continues to mourn.
How many times have I done exactly that? In the pursuit of something cherished, I have held the goal so close, that in the end, when it all fell apart, there was no one to blame but myself. Road to a personal hell, paved with the best of intentions.
*sigh* I wish her peace.
Ya Ya tried her best to keep her cubs safe, and in doing so, wore herself out, not properly eating or sleeping. This exhaustion caused her to drop the smaller baby, mid-feeding, and collapse onto the fallen body, crushing the tiny offspring beneath her.
She is “inconsolable, wailing and looking for her baby after its body was taken away from her.”
Although the baby was one of a set of twins, and the elder cub remains alive and in good health, Ya Ya continues to mourn.
How many times have I done exactly that? In the pursuit of something cherished, I have held the goal so close, that in the end, when it all fell apart, there was no one to blame but myself. Road to a personal hell, paved with the best of intentions.
*sigh* I wish her peace.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Like so many others......
I am deeply saddened by the loss of Steve Irwin. What a great man, dedicated to wildlife conservation.
I somehow always thought that in the world of working with wildlife, I would eventually run into him. Now that possibility is gone, and the world seems smaller... darker.
I hope they have crocodiles in your afterworld, Steve. If nothing else, I know you're there with your best mate, Suey. Happy Trails to you both.
I somehow always thought that in the world of working with wildlife, I would eventually run into him. Now that possibility is gone, and the world seems smaller... darker.
I hope they have crocodiles in your afterworld, Steve. If nothing else, I know you're there with your best mate, Suey. Happy Trails to you both.
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