philosophy

Time

Of all the ways that be thought of to show someone, to show something your love, to show that you care, time is the most precious. To give someone your time is to give of yourself. It is your time to give and you will never get it back. It will be gone forever.

And yet we sometimes, when we think, we we realize, when we become aware, give our time to others and think nothing of it. But to really, really give your time takes concentration and intention. It takes self awareness. Simply to be in someone’s presence is not enough. It is nothing.

Giving someone your time is to listen and to pay attention. It is to put all other things aside and to find it in yourself to care enough to forget, forget about yourself. It is a gift that is not easy to give. It is that little silence that we put aside for another day only to find that the day past us long ago.

The world is filled with people with ample time to give and perhaps they desire to give it. But it just seems like they, it seems like we, forget. It is easy to do, to lose track of time. And when we do we do not have it to give. And we say: we do not have time.

But time is something we we have all of the time. We often fetter it away, not thinking of what we are losing and why we are losing it. So why not give someone your time. YOUR time is a gift that only you can give. It is most personal and intimate gift we can give.

It is not all we have, but it is all that matters.

There are Things…

Taking Jack to the airport at 3am for a drop off was painful. I certainly shed a tear but I had hope that out west where he was going, that he would find a home. I wanted to be that home but it was not to be. I handed him over and helped into a small kennel. I put his favorite toys into the kennel and when I stood up I looked down and looked at his sorrowful eyes looking up at me.

He wasn’t making a sound and this was odd. He hated kennels. During the past few weeks he had hurriedly become a part of our household, making himself at home and irritating our old dog, Maggie. He was happy and would not let me out of his sight. He went everywhere with us and when we did have to leave him alone, waited patiently.

Jack was a foster that had a “planned outcome”, so it was called, in Utah.

I don’t make any allusions to the fact that fostering can be difficult, especially with a companion such as Jack. But fostering helps dogs out of situations that are not so good and into situations that are hopefully loving and secure. Fostering is fulfilling but be ready to leave a piece of your self with the animal that you foster. The hope is that there is enough to go around, enough for the next, and the next.

If there were issues, it was with people, not with Jack or any other dog including one we tried to foster before and simply didn’t work out. So I’ve been told by others that they couldn’t foster because they couldn’t bear thought of letting go but I cannot bear the thought of animals in need not getting the help. It is simple to do and although painful, fostering is a way to do good for an animal that often has little chance if any.

I will miss Jack and continue to do so, but I will find another to foster, to help, because there are things that are worth bearing the pain and shedding the tears for.

No Time

There are many platitudes that hide in the shadows of excuses. There are many fears disguised by procrastination. But there is no greater shame than having no time. As time goes by we become comfortable in our excuses and procrastinated plans are forgotten. A blinder replaces the blue skies of possibility.

We have time. That is all that we have. We sell our time cheaply or give it away to the shiny machinery that makes up our days or we can choose to value that which we do have. There is a chance to start but there is no way to bring back the days spent wasting precious time. Time is a one way street.

There is no time to waste. There is no better time than now. There is yet time but no time like now.

Music

There’s a magic to music. Take the time to find it. If you don’t play, then listen. Listen closely. In the pieces it can be heard. That is, the feeling of the musicians and their abilities, their willingness to listen to each other.

Music can be ignored but it cannot be dismissed. There are those times when playing, sometimes late at night on a stage to an empty club, drunks at the bar, no one paying any attention, TV’s blaring, when the magic happens. It might be between the bassist and the drummer, or the guitarist hitting a particular note at a particular time.

Music can be analyzed and understood and still be an allusive and rare species. There are many pathways to “it” but “it” changes. “It” is not a destination or a goal, just a temperamental touch of time in a passing slice of space. There are people who are musicians and there are people who are able to play music. The difference is the ability to recognize the magic when it happens, if it happens, and to be able to tell the difference.

Music is a language that takes a lifetime to learn it is one of the few things that is actually worth it.

Evil

At the animal shelter of any town or city one can see, firsthand, the final results of ignorance and greed, of those that bring down the rest of us, that take away the good in a community. It is easy to recognize and difficult to face. There is no place for cynicism or complacency. It is there, staring you in the face with frightened eyes, or anger, or defeat, and even hope.

It could be that those that create the need for these places have reasons to feel forlorn, forgotten. It could be that they themselves were or are abused. It could be many things that bring an individual to break a spirit, or to answer a hopeful look with a violent attack. It could be drugs. It could be depression. But there is one thing that it could not be; that is, it could not be a person.

A person wouldn’t create an innocent and broken spirit. A person would not cause panic and pain. A person would not do the things that it takes to create an being that no longer wants to be a part of the world that it has been thrown into. A person could not look at the faces at an animal shelter and feel nothing, feel a disconnect, or feel the need to inflict even more evil.

And that is what it is. Evil. There is no other word, no other concept. Evil is not given to humanity, it is made. It is in the faces of those that have experienced it. At the animal shelter of any town or city one can see, firsthand, the final results of evil.

The Cowboy

The cowboy’s life is sometimes a hard one. He stays up night worrying about the days.

And when the light comes over the horizon he promises himself to mend his ways.

And the years roll by like the highway beneath him and he knows he’s been trying to hide.

Hide from the truth that life is mistreating and it’ll beat you down until you cry.

He’s been taught that crying is wrong and he’s been told to lie is a sin.

He believes that there’s someone somewhere who will on day understand just where he’s been.

The cowboy knows that time is sacred and he knows that life is short.

The cowboy feels each heart that’s broken and he cries a tear.

So if your a cowboy that tired of fighting and you feel that life has let you down.

Find a road that leads you somewhere and wait for the good to come back around.

Because life’s not fair for the cowboy but life doesn’t care who you are.

Life goes on for the cowboy, but he never knows just how far.

Search for Truth

Happiness is fleeting and probably overrated. This seems cynical but it is not meant to be. We in the west tend to desperately desire to be happy, all of the time. In Denmark, rated the world’s happiest country for several years in a row, the question was asked: how? How is Denmark so consistently happy?

The answer: lower your expectations. This also seems cynical, but it is not. The truth does not always lead to happiness. It does not always feel good or adhere to your particular ideology. The truth is often in simple statements. The truth is often simple and most often does not meet our personal expectations. It does not always give us what we want. But it is the epitome of human existence, at least that part of human existence that matters.

But what is this truth? What is this concept that matters so much?

True, justified, belief is the short answer. But there is one other possible answer. Consider it.

Truth is the quality of the relationship between an idea of a thing and the thing itself.

The search for truth is an unending process to raise that quality, the quality of our thinking and of our thoughts. We must raise the quality of that relationship. The search for truth leads down dark paths and contemplative nights but the search for truth is our only justified means. It does not rely upon happiness, but it is perhaps the only way of lowering our expectations.

True to Yourself

What should I do?

What should I be?

Where should I go?

These are the questions that children ask their parents and that parents ask themselves. We all want answers. Answers range, but narrowly. “Follow your heart” is a popular but platitudinous answer, dripping in emotion and vague. So what is left?

Truth. But truth comes at a high cost. Not that it is not worth it. It is, but it takes a lifetime. And it takes failure. Truth demands that the “heart” take a backseat. Truth demands questions. And truth changes. It depends upon situations and perspective.

Truth starts simple enough, with a belief. But then things get difficult. We have to justify the truths that we find. Others demand it and we demand it from ourselves. The first lesson is that we must be true to others. The second lesson is that we must be true to ourselves.

Don’t misunderstand. We cannot live for others. We cannot live for our children or our spouses. But we must be truthful with them. Being true to yourself, well…that’s another thing altogether. We may tell the truth to those we care about, but we easily lie to ourselves.

Being true to yourself takes courage and will often lead you to places unknown and surprises not thought about. Anyway, in the end what else is there but truth. It is the only thing that matters.

The Motorcycle

A motorcycle is most at home on back roads, leaning into turns and switchbacks. Not sitting in the garage or chomping miles on a highway. It will do these things but will taunt the rider at every chance. In the garage it will beckon, promising adventure and excitement. On the highway each exit represents a chance to feel alive and test your endurance and moxie.

These things, these motorcycles, are cumbersome when standing still. Like a seal on beach. But give them a road to go through their gears on and they come alive, like a seal in the water. Down gear and give it gas just as the curve comes up and gun it out of the end. Swing your body over to and from to follow the jaunts and snake-like line that the road takes. The motorcycle knows that you are smiling.

Motorcycles are often called death-machines but really they are a chance to live. They take one out of the mundane, out of comfort zones, out of life spent looking at a clock or the world through a windshield. There are roads that speak a language that only motorcyclists can come to understand, and that only motorcycles can decipher. On a motorcycle it is easy to realize that comfort is your enemy.

A motorcycle is a conglomeration of gears and steel and oil and gas. But it is more than a sum of its parts. It becomes a part of one’s body and psyche if enough time is spent on it, if enough patience is given to understanding the machine and its limitations. Experience will open up avenues to adventure and a motorcycle opens adventure up to life.