life

All the While

Perspectives change and change they should. The bubbles that we live in daily are facades, they are buildings that we have erected and have been erected for us. every brick shields us from the ever-changing reality that just sometimes becomes too much. They are so much a part of our lives that we hardly notice them. After time they themselves become our realities.

We all love our own perspectives. they are, after all, those things that define us. This, we are told, is the ultimate goal of life: to build a lovely life filled with good things and to like ourselves. And this is the goal as long as it is not at the cost of all else. Perspectives exist within a reality and they have consequences within that reality. They affect that reality and visa-versa. That is how it should be.

But perspectives have a way of creating their own realities. They have a way of shielding us from things that might change them, that might change the way we think. They have a way of parenting our decisions, and holding an ever-protective defense over our eyes. And while this happens and we go about our lovely lives filled with good things, the bricks are laid.

Soon we forget who we are and what we are, and we don’t realize what we’ve become. Good and bad cease to have meaning outside of our own opinions. Arguments become ideologies and reality becomes what we want it to be. And all the while…

Helping

There is something about helping that can raise the spirits, make the world seem brighter. Even if it is a thankless thing, an anonymous hand that pulls the string, a minute to stop is all it takes.

Don’t expect to be thanked. Don’t expect the world to stop and graciously bow before your helping hand. Don’t expect anything but know that it does make a difference. Just look in the eye of that dog you stopped to help, or that cat that needed a hand. Just look in the eye of that person.

Money, yes, but better is time. Help by giving your time. If you can, give as much as you can. It’s amazing how fulfilling, how wonderful, and how life opens up when you give that thing that we all take for granted. Time is amazing.

Do what you can. Do what is needed. Do the right thing. Give the world your time and smile as the warm feeling of happiness fills you. Help til you’re tired. Help until you need to help others. Help yourself.

Help is that sort of happiness that so many don’t believe exists. Help them to understand that it truly does. It truly does.

Pay Attention

Don’t let a phone get in the way of looking at someone while they talk. Visit with the flesh and blood sitting in front of you. Share their smile or grimace. The picture doesn’t matter. The text can wait. Turn off the ringer. There is nothing more important than that person that you are sharing a minute, an hour, a day with. There is nothing on that screen that can give you as much or that you can learn more from.

That small, magical box is Pandora’s. Let her have it. Give it away freely. Forget about it. Let the battery run dead and find your life once again. People are flesh and blood, and they have given you their time. The silicone and plastic, the oil and electricity soaked entertainment takes your time and sells you an illusion. Put it down. First for an hour, then a day. Then a week.

It’s worth the pain. Don’t look at it while it sits and lures you in the the fake imagination and shiny promises of a preacher. Let the wires retract from your veins and let the sun shine through the backlit LED lies that flash so quickly as to not be seen. Don’t be fooled. Be bored. Don’t look for information. Find knowledge. Find yourself. Find what friends used to mean.

Pay attention to the moment. Pay attention. Now.

The Monday Blues

Every Monday morning is peculiar. It’s just another day. I think we all know that, but at the same time…it’s Monday. The dogs bark a little more, there’s more tension, tiredness. The week lies ahead and Saturday is a dim light at the end of the five-day tunnel. It’s an old story but one that is repeated endlessly.

And why? Why Monday?

We work, often, from Monday to Friday but why is that a reason to dread. Work ought to be good. In the best of worlds it is something that we are happy about, something that gives our lives meaning. Of course, there are so many people that must work, they must do anything in order to make a living. This is most of the world. But chances are if this is being read, those people aren’t you.

Recently I went by the cemetery where my family is buried and I cleaned the gravestones off, removed the grass and washed the granite a bit to make the names legible. My wife went with me. As I looked down at my father’s grave I commented.

“This is everyone at one point.” I said.

And this is everyone some one point. A marker that is often forgotten, a grave in a forgotten cemetery. And so why Monday? Because we forget that there are just so many Mondays. Be happy that we are able to have the Monday blues.

Til’ Death Do Us Part

To look for meaning in life is a natural thing to do.  Most, it might be said, look to find meaning in their work or their family; perhaps, both.  It doesn’t really seem to matter, only that there is meaning in life.  We fight against a shallow existence, but often we find ourselves being the consumer of things rather than thought.

And this is where life takes us,especially when we are young.  But we get old, if we are fortunate, and it is in age that we find that the world cannot be fixed or saved; that we cannot fight the march of what we as a generation choose to call progress.  The wars continue to be fought, children born, people die.

There is injustice in the world now, as there always has been.

It is not that we get wiser as we get older (wisdom is a rarity).  It is just, maybe, that we get tired; that we realize that the world will not be fixed or saved; that our continuous fight is doing nothing but making us miserable; and in the end we die anyway.

This is not as gloomy as it may first seem.

There are choices that confront us, and if we take the time, we will be faced with choices that actually matter.  If fighting for justice, for wisdom, for progress makes us miserable, perhaps it is us that needs to be saved or fixed for the fight will always and forever be there; until death do us part.

Letting Go

Early in the morning, every morning, the sky presents a new show.  The lights, the trees, the snow, the clouds play out a story complete with characters.  Sitting in front of the newly founded fire in the wood burning stove, the coffee is hot and strong, and black as the night before.

Taking a sip, the sun begins its pageantry through the leafless trees.  Everyday begins this way: summer, fall, winter, and spring.  Now it is winter here on the homestead; and it is cold.  The fire begins warming up the room as the thoughts begin to fill my head.  The past taking up much of the past, and the present taking up much of the day, now they both make a place for the future.

Another sip of coffee, the sun continually changing the sky and the rooster crowing in the background, the beauty is astounding, and yet not enough.  It is quiet up here, still like silence on the sea; a car goes by, the same car as yesterday and the day before.

When silence is ubiquitous every sound counts.

Another sip, another thought as I wait for the second car that comes some minutes later.  All of this will be missed, and as the night lets go to the daylight, we will also let go of another day.

The Spirit of Work

Cup of coffee in hand and looking out over the fields, it is difficult to muster the motivation to give up the fire and go out to work.  But, as always, there is work.  This is not bad thing, it is just that the grey mornings and rainy weather have a tendency to dampen the spirit of working.

That spirit to work, that drive to do something, something meaningful defines who we are.  Work is neither a right or a bane.  Rather, it is that intentional act to give meaning.  We do not have a right to work, we must simply work in order to have rights.  Work is not a heavy load to bear with a dreary mind, work is what we do no matter our attitude towards it.

There is always work, and work can always wait.  But why?  Why make the meaning in our lives wait for sunny days or better dispositions?  For those who do not understand the spirit of work, we are too busy.  For those who misunderstand the spirit of work, we are not busy enough.

And so the coffee finished and a final log put on the fire, I don the overalls and you (perhaps) don a suit and we both work in the spirit of making meaning in our lives one minute at a time.

Unexpected Places

Happiness from the most unexpected places, even for moments in a day.  There is a certain look in the eyes of creatures that if we learn to read them let us know that we are not the only ones that experience the world in ways that make us wonder.

When I go out to the workshop I must often wander my way through hens running for a snack.  I pet a few as the clucks of anticipation follow me to the barn.  The younger pullets are sometimes like the dog that follows me around the house when I’m in.  Her comfortably perched on my bed after the morning walk.

The cat, not to be left out, nibbles a bit of food and then runs to the door to roll in the dust of the farm; old tree scratching posts and sun spots offering the warmth of the world.

At the corner store.

“I love that smell.”  she says as she hands me my sugar for the bees.

“What smell is that?”  I ask.

“The smell of wood; you’ve been working with wood.”

I nod and tell her that I have and I notice that happiness comes from the most unexpected places.

Life

Everyone makes mistakes; some bigger and others not so much.  However, as has been mentioned in this blog on previous occasions: mistakes are useful if we learn from them.  That being said, learning from mistakes are rarely enjoyable experiences and perhaps even harder to actually learn from.  I’ve made my share of mistakes and have come up with a three-part plan to deal with the mistakes that are inevitable in our lives.

First…the mistake.

Our societies have somehow made mistakes faux pas’.  Interestingly enough talking to individuals we are given advice on how mistakes are helpful.  This contradiction is perhaps explainable if we do not assume that people know when they’ve made mistakes.  The first step in this three-part plan is to recognize and accept the mistake.  Both actions take concerted efforts on our parts and are not fun.  But, we are here to rectify mistakes!

Secondly… consider how the mistake happened.

Once the mistake is recognized gnashing of teeth and crying of tears will probably ensue.  This is to be expected.  At some point, however, we must begin the learning process and this process begins with understanding the decisions that led to and perhaps continue the mistake itself.  So, between the gnashing and crying take an assessment of your decision-making processes that led you to the point that you are recognizing, i.e. the mistake.  Do this while gnashing and crying perhaps, but do it at any rate.  Perhaps a beverage or two, but not too much as we don’t want to lead ourselves down a path that leads us to even more mistake-making.

Third….what now!?

After the last tear has fallen and the last tooth has been gnashed, a plan is needed.  Take a good and honest look at the situation you find yourself in and ask a simple question: where do you want to be?  Is it another place?  Is it another person?  Is it another philosophy or job? and then start the process of making further mistakes again.  Enjoy the trip and start the three-part process over again.

Have fun and best of luck!

Paying Attention

On a whim, we bought four chicks from a well-known agriculture store to supplement our existing flock.  After a few weeks, we find that we have three roosters and a hen.  Right now they’re cute; they run around playing and chirping, but I know the future for the three little roosters.

That future is a reality for people who have decided to be self-sufficient.  The first lesson to learn is that self-sufficiency is not always bucolic, it is not always so peaceful.  Every day I take the little chicks out of their box in the coop and transfer them to the chicken tractor to enjoy the grass and sunshine.  And all the time, I know that the rooster’s days are numbered.

Last year, I “processed” about sixty five chickens and two pigs.  The killing is not easy, but the passing of the days with the animals was enjoyable.  Don’t let anyone lie to you: animals have a personality and I firmly believe that they smile in their own way.  This does not make my job easier and nor should it.  When it becomes easy to kill or worse, enjoyable, then we as a society have a problem.

This problem shows itself in many ways, often subtle but equally disturbing.  Taking a life, human or otherwise, should never be an act taken lightly, but because we often want easy, it has become just that.  Every morning I take the chicks out, and I let the hens out.  All of them have a limited time on earth and so do we.  Death is inevitable, but it is the time before death that counts.

Maybe we should pay attention to life a bit more and we will finally realize just how precarious it is.