Life is an endless series of cycles. Sometimes the cycles are predictable and sometimes they catch us unaware. Either way, they can be either good or bad.
Just now, both anticipated and out of the blue changes have me adjusting course on several fronts.
One of those course adjustments is the frequency of my blog posts. Over the next few weeks my musings may well be posted with a certain irregularity.
Once I get a feel for the new guiding currents I'm certain I'll reestablish a predictable routine. For those who look forward to their daily read of this blog, I'll strive to keep disruption to a minimum.
For today I offer a contemplation:
The person who rides the currents of life the way a cork rides the currents in a stream encounters countless opportunities.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Expanding Our Universe
Guess who's coming for dinner? It ain't who you think.
There have been times when I've looked up at a full moon on a crystal clear night and wondered... what if that isn't a moon at all? what if it's the eyepiece to a cosmic sized microscope?
A rather unsettling thought considering, were it true, it would make me the equivalent of an amoeba on a glass slide.
Of course in the days when I pondered such possibilities I was also devouring the classic book Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
Turns out I might just have to brush off that guide.
Thanks to NASA's Kepler space telescope, surveyors of the universe have identified 1,235 possible worlds (and their respective suns). Compared to some of the newly discovered suns, our own UV producing star is little more than a grain of sand.
I'm working on loading up the pantry. No telling when company might drop by.
There have been times when I've looked up at a full moon on a crystal clear night and wondered... what if that isn't a moon at all? what if it's the eyepiece to a cosmic sized microscope?
A rather unsettling thought considering, were it true, it would make me the equivalent of an amoeba on a glass slide.
Of course in the days when I pondered such possibilities I was also devouring the classic book Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
Turns out I might just have to brush off that guide.
Thanks to NASA's Kepler space telescope, surveyors of the universe have identified 1,235 possible worlds (and their respective suns). Compared to some of the newly discovered suns, our own UV producing star is little more than a grain of sand.
I'm working on loading up the pantry. No telling when company might drop by.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Tuning Up
The swaying branches of willow trees are practically glowing green. Hardwood trees are sporting buds of green and red. Flowering trees are offering displays of pink and white. Miniature daffodils have unfolded blooms as yellow as the sun and pansies are pinwheels of primary colors.
It is the color equivalent of an orchestra tuning up prior to a concert.
Seated in the front row, I wait anxiously for mother nature to raise her baton. When she does, the isolated dots and stripes of green, yellow, white, and blue will fill out into wide brushstrokes of rainbow harmony. I'm certain the opening stanzas will take my breath away.
It is the color equivalent of an orchestra tuning up prior to a concert.
Seated in the front row, I wait anxiously for mother nature to raise her baton. When she does, the isolated dots and stripes of green, yellow, white, and blue will fill out into wide brushstrokes of rainbow harmony. I'm certain the opening stanzas will take my breath away.
Monday, March 28, 2011
It Ain't the Way It Sounds
Intimacy has been bastardized.
There was a time when the word intimacy conjured up images of snuggling with a significant other. Perhaps sharing a bottle of wine in front of a fireplace or spooning under the covers.
These days, concert promoters have made intimacy synonymous with robbery.
Recently radio stations and websites have been offering a plethora of intimate evenings with rock stars of long standing. It sounds enticing. An opportunity to listen to a gifted artist in a small venue. Only the venues aren't necessarily small and the suggestion of intimacy is only an excuse to start ticket prices at a hundred and fifty smackers per seat (or standing space).
To some folks an opportunity to see an artist in a building smaller than a sports stadium is worth the exorbitant price. I don't understand the acceptance of that price tag but I don't hold it against anyone either.
I do resent the bastardizing of what should be a loving term. Intimacy is one word that should remain pure.
There was a time when the word intimacy conjured up images of snuggling with a significant other. Perhaps sharing a bottle of wine in front of a fireplace or spooning under the covers.
These days, concert promoters have made intimacy synonymous with robbery.
Recently radio stations and websites have been offering a plethora of intimate evenings with rock stars of long standing. It sounds enticing. An opportunity to listen to a gifted artist in a small venue. Only the venues aren't necessarily small and the suggestion of intimacy is only an excuse to start ticket prices at a hundred and fifty smackers per seat (or standing space).
To some folks an opportunity to see an artist in a building smaller than a sports stadium is worth the exorbitant price. I don't understand the acceptance of that price tag but I don't hold it against anyone either.
I do resent the bastardizing of what should be a loving term. Intimacy is one word that should remain pure.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Infiltration Denied
It was a near thing.
Despite Punxsutawney Phil's perfect prognostication. Despite the red breasted Cardinals taking the field. Despite the extended evening daylight hours. Despite recent temperatures in the fifties and sixties... Nightmare almost slipped back in the back door.
With the Weather Channel having posted a weather advisory including the words snow and ice I had gone to bed last night feeling like a condemned man who had just seen his reprieve snatched away.
Fortunately I woke to discover nothing more than a scattering of white flakes blowing across the back deck.
By noon sunshine was abundant and the mercury was moving upward.
Pre-summer had held its ground.
Despite Punxsutawney Phil's perfect prognostication. Despite the red breasted Cardinals taking the field. Despite the extended evening daylight hours. Despite recent temperatures in the fifties and sixties... Nightmare almost slipped back in the back door.
With the Weather Channel having posted a weather advisory including the words snow and ice I had gone to bed last night feeling like a condemned man who had just seen his reprieve snatched away.
Fortunately I woke to discover nothing more than a scattering of white flakes blowing across the back deck.
By noon sunshine was abundant and the mercury was moving upward.
Pre-summer had held its ground.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Driverless Cars
It should be a law that a person can't buy a car if their head doesn't come above the steering wheel.
I had the misfortune of being stuck behind two different seemingly driverless cars tonight.
It's a truly unnerving experience to encounter a self-directed car. All the more so when that car weaves from side to side as though only chance keeps it between the traffic lines on the road.
Considering the only thing in the driver's line of sight was the tuner for the radio, it just might have been chance that kept the car aligned - chance and the fact the driver was apparently unable to reach the gas pedal.
I had the misfortune of being stuck behind two different seemingly driverless cars tonight.
It's a truly unnerving experience to encounter a self-directed car. All the more so when that car weaves from side to side as though only chance keeps it between the traffic lines on the road.
Considering the only thing in the driver's line of sight was the tuner for the radio, it just might have been chance that kept the car aligned - chance and the fact the driver was apparently unable to reach the gas pedal.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Conquering the Field
The redcoats overran the battlefield this morning.
Or so it appeared as I watched dozens of Cardinals plucking nutritional tidbits from the grassy areas in the center of the office complex today.
Marching twelve and more abreast with a single minded determination, the red breasted Cardinals drove sparrows and finches alike from the lawn.
As harbingers of pre-summer, the vast numbers of Cardinals did my heart good. Despite that certain four letter "s" word being in the forecast, this morning's maneuvers by the red breasted avians is a sure sign that warmer temperatures are on the way.
Or so it appeared as I watched dozens of Cardinals plucking nutritional tidbits from the grassy areas in the center of the office complex today.
Marching twelve and more abreast with a single minded determination, the red breasted Cardinals drove sparrows and finches alike from the lawn.
As harbingers of pre-summer, the vast numbers of Cardinals did my heart good. Despite that certain four letter "s" word being in the forecast, this morning's maneuvers by the red breasted avians is a sure sign that warmer temperatures are on the way.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Moon Over March
It may not have caused the earthquake in Japan, but it sure tugged on everybody's loony strings.
While scientists were tripping over themselves to insist this month's "Supermoon" hadn't encouraged Japan to jump thirteen feet, I and the folks I work with have been asking is there a full moon or something? We've repeated that phrase so often in the past week it's starting to sound like a mantra.
Then we heard about how the moon was the closest its been to earth in the past eighteen years. Funny how even before this scientific tidbit came to our attention our small universe of workers knew there was something at work in the larger universe.
Because, of course, the crazy nature of people really does come out during full moons. People drive more aggressively, tempers flare at the drop of a pin, and the need it now generation suddenly becomes the had to have it yesterday generation.
And if the moon can so disrupt humanity is it really so much of a stretch to believe it can upset natures balance just as easily?
While scientists were tripping over themselves to insist this month's "Supermoon" hadn't encouraged Japan to jump thirteen feet, I and the folks I work with have been asking is there a full moon or something? We've repeated that phrase so often in the past week it's starting to sound like a mantra.
Then we heard about how the moon was the closest its been to earth in the past eighteen years. Funny how even before this scientific tidbit came to our attention our small universe of workers knew there was something at work in the larger universe.
Because, of course, the crazy nature of people really does come out during full moons. People drive more aggressively, tempers flare at the drop of a pin, and the need it now generation suddenly becomes the had to have it yesterday generation.
And if the moon can so disrupt humanity is it really so much of a stretch to believe it can upset natures balance just as easily?
Monday, March 21, 2011
Battling Monday
Daylight never arrived this morning. At least not during the morning commute.
In the north the bottoms of dark clouds were illuminated by rapidly pulsing flashes. Somehow my mind refused to acknowledge the possibility of a storm front. Instead I found myself surveying the landscape ahead as though it were a war zone. Plumes of smoke, not clouds, drifted low in the sky. The flashes weren't from lightning but anti-aircraft fire.
The local radio station picked that time to play Pat Benatar's Love is a Battlefield. All I heard was the word battlefield and wondered that I wasn't consumed by a compulsion to turn around.
Instead I watched as smoke gray clouds raced overhead with purpose. Somehow I avoided the worst of the rain, clouds breaking ranks at my approach, but the few heavy raindrops I did encounter sounded like metal fragments banging on the roof and windshield.
It was the perfect Monday for a mental health day, but for some reason I pushed sanity to the background and surged onward.
In the north the bottoms of dark clouds were illuminated by rapidly pulsing flashes. Somehow my mind refused to acknowledge the possibility of a storm front. Instead I found myself surveying the landscape ahead as though it were a war zone. Plumes of smoke, not clouds, drifted low in the sky. The flashes weren't from lightning but anti-aircraft fire.
The local radio station picked that time to play Pat Benatar's Love is a Battlefield. All I heard was the word battlefield and wondered that I wasn't consumed by a compulsion to turn around.
Instead I watched as smoke gray clouds raced overhead with purpose. Somehow I avoided the worst of the rain, clouds breaking ranks at my approach, but the few heavy raindrops I did encounter sounded like metal fragments banging on the roof and windshield.
It was the perfect Monday for a mental health day, but for some reason I pushed sanity to the background and surged onward.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Summer Dressing
It had been my intent to welcome everyone to pre-summer, but it seems a large number of folks have decided to jump directly to summer mode.
Motivated Mom and I were visiting a friend this weekend who lives near one of the big cities in the mid atlantic region. While there were no blooming dogwood trees or brightly colored pansies to be seen, there was no mistaking folks had decided to put the past few months of cold weather nightmare behind them.
Much to my surprise (because I was still using a down vest to buffer the chill) there was an abundance of white skin, short shorts, flip-flops, and sleeveless shirts to be seen in the shopping district.
... And I'm not referring to the manequins in the department store windows.
Wherever I turned people were announcing by their choice of clothing that summer was just around the corner. While I applauded their positive attitude, I found myself questioning the sanity of folks showing more skin than clothes when the still chilly winds of pre-summer had flags snapping like the sails of a schooner racing before a storm.
Motivated Mom and I were visiting a friend this weekend who lives near one of the big cities in the mid atlantic region. While there were no blooming dogwood trees or brightly colored pansies to be seen, there was no mistaking folks had decided to put the past few months of cold weather nightmare behind them.
Much to my surprise (because I was still using a down vest to buffer the chill) there was an abundance of white skin, short shorts, flip-flops, and sleeveless shirts to be seen in the shopping district.
... And I'm not referring to the manequins in the department store windows.
Wherever I turned people were announcing by their choice of clothing that summer was just around the corner. While I applauded their positive attitude, I found myself questioning the sanity of folks showing more skin than clothes when the still chilly winds of pre-summer had flags snapping like the sails of a schooner racing before a storm.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Reporting Priority
Admittedly I'm not at my best first thing in the morning, so it took a few minutes to accept what I was seeing.
I started my day by logging on to the internet to get the latest update on the news from Japan. Ranked just beneath articles about devastation, nuclear fallout, and humanitarian crisis was ... could it really be?
Yes, someone had written an article addressing concerns that GPS might not be accurate now that Japan had shifted 13 feet.
When entire neighborhoods are gone, when people are fleeing crumbling structures,I don't know that there are going to be too many folks concerned they should have turned right one side street earlier. The street probably isn't there anyway.
I'm trying to picture the intrepid reporter who, feet propped on desk and fingers laced behind head, stares at the rectangular panels of the drop ceiling, ponders the crisis in Japan, worries over an angle for a story, and suddenly lurches upright saying Oh my gosh, GPS might not work.
I'm guessing this would be the same reporter who was fired from the daily crossword puzzle desk.
I started my day by logging on to the internet to get the latest update on the news from Japan. Ranked just beneath articles about devastation, nuclear fallout, and humanitarian crisis was ... could it really be?
Yes, someone had written an article addressing concerns that GPS might not be accurate now that Japan had shifted 13 feet.
When entire neighborhoods are gone, when people are fleeing crumbling structures,I don't know that there are going to be too many folks concerned they should have turned right one side street earlier. The street probably isn't there anyway.
I'm trying to picture the intrepid reporter who, feet propped on desk and fingers laced behind head, stares at the rectangular panels of the drop ceiling, ponders the crisis in Japan, worries over an angle for a story, and suddenly lurches upright saying Oh my gosh, GPS might not work.
I'm guessing this would be the same reporter who was fired from the daily crossword puzzle desk.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
The Seeing Factor
With the return of lingering darkness in the morning (an inconvenience I'll willingly deal with in exchange for more light later in the day) I've noticed something amount road conditions.
When I can see the actual road surface ahead of me I discount the small bumps in the road. But in the pitch black, every bump registers as a potential car-eating pothole.
The past few mornings I have struggled to reassure myself that yawning cavities don't open for no reason - and I have wondered how it is I haven't noticed all of these uneven seams in the road before.
For the most part, those seams, divets, and bumps have been in existence for weeks if not longer, but the inability to see changes everything about perception.
It occurs to me this is true in many aspects of life. When I have a vision, a plan, I move forward with a fast paced determination. But when life opens a pothole in my path I tend to slow down and turn cautious.
Perhaps the hidden message in all of this is to keep the pedal to the metal and leave the potholes behind in the dust.
When I can see the actual road surface ahead of me I discount the small bumps in the road. But in the pitch black, every bump registers as a potential car-eating pothole.
The past few mornings I have struggled to reassure myself that yawning cavities don't open for no reason - and I have wondered how it is I haven't noticed all of these uneven seams in the road before.
For the most part, those seams, divets, and bumps have been in existence for weeks if not longer, but the inability to see changes everything about perception.
It occurs to me this is true in many aspects of life. When I have a vision, a plan, I move forward with a fast paced determination. But when life opens a pothole in my path I tend to slow down and turn cautious.
Perhaps the hidden message in all of this is to keep the pedal to the metal and leave the potholes behind in the dust.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
The Atlantis Key
Once again the lost city of Atlantis was making headlines as yet another research team communicated their belief they had found the fabled city. The latest breadcrumb on the trail to discovery was made possible by satellite imagery.
And I got to wondering... what is it about legends like lost Atlantis, the Loch Ness Monster, and the Bermuda Triangle that keeps people searching despite repeated failures to establish proof of existence?
The current worldwide climate of instant information and instant gratification would suggest that humans would quickly lose interest in anything that couldn't be substantiated in nano-seconds.
Perhaps these legends live on because instant gratification hasn't brought sustainable satisfaction. Perhaps, deep down, we understand we're still missing something.
So, while studying the computer generated image of how Atlantis would have appeared looking down from the heavens, I found it noteworthy that the outer boundaries of the city very much resembled the shape of a key.
And I got to wondering... what is it about legends like lost Atlantis, the Loch Ness Monster, and the Bermuda Triangle that keeps people searching despite repeated failures to establish proof of existence?
The current worldwide climate of instant information and instant gratification would suggest that humans would quickly lose interest in anything that couldn't be substantiated in nano-seconds.
Perhaps these legends live on because instant gratification hasn't brought sustainable satisfaction. Perhaps, deep down, we understand we're still missing something.
So, while studying the computer generated image of how Atlantis would have appeared looking down from the heavens, I found it noteworthy that the outer boundaries of the city very much resembled the shape of a key.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Purple Memories
I found myself reliving the childhood of my children on the drive home this evening.
The retreat into the past was spurred by the car in front of me with a single exhaust pipe. The horn shaped pipe centered in the rear of the car caught my attention even before the unusual purple shade of the car's finish.
Putting the horn and the color together I was suddenly humming a tune from one of the We Sing Silly Songs VHS cassettes that kept my kids entertained for hours. If you have children - or grandchildren - you have probably already figured out the ditty I'm referring to... One eyed, one horned, flying purple people eater.
Just as the video cassette played over and over... and over, so did the song cycle repeatedly through my head for the last 20 minutes of the commute. Even turning on the car radio failed to completely purge the people eater from my thoughts.
It was perhaps the longest drive I've endured in quite some time.
The retreat into the past was spurred by the car in front of me with a single exhaust pipe. The horn shaped pipe centered in the rear of the car caught my attention even before the unusual purple shade of the car's finish.
Putting the horn and the color together I was suddenly humming a tune from one of the We Sing Silly Songs VHS cassettes that kept my kids entertained for hours. If you have children - or grandchildren - you have probably already figured out the ditty I'm referring to... One eyed, one horned, flying purple people eater.
Just as the video cassette played over and over... and over, so did the song cycle repeatedly through my head for the last 20 minutes of the commute. Even turning on the car radio failed to completely purge the people eater from my thoughts.
It was perhaps the longest drive I've endured in quite some time.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Wonderful Day
With apologies to Andy Williams....
It's the most wonderful day of the year.
The day when clock hands move forward,
Pre-summer draws closer,
Evenings stay light longer,
And the need for sunblock draws near,
It's the most wonderful day of the year.
Throw off those nightmare blahs and prepare to spring into pre-summer!
It's the most wonderful day of the year.
The day when clock hands move forward,
Pre-summer draws closer,
Evenings stay light longer,
And the need for sunblock draws near,
It's the most wonderful day of the year.
Throw off those nightmare blahs and prepare to spring into pre-summer!
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Goose, Goose, Car
What does a goose see in a car?
I was wondering just that when I looked out the front window of my house to see my car surrounded by close to thirty geese. The geese all stood staring at the car as though they were experiencing ultimate enlightenment.
Well, if was enlightenment they wanted.... with a chuckle I pulled the key fob from my pocket and pressed the lock button repeatedly causing the car horn to beep.
My expectation had been the geese would scatter in fearful dismay. Instead they cocked their heads first left, then right, and started crowding closer to the car.
Could it be the geese found the sound of the car horn an attraction? Were they whispering in awe to one another, sharing the thrill of having discovered the perfect pitched "honk" they themselves had been striving for over generations?
I'll never know the answer to that question. My neighbor chose that moment to scatter the remnants of a stale loaf of bread on his front stoop and the geese raced off to get first pickings.
I was wondering just that when I looked out the front window of my house to see my car surrounded by close to thirty geese. The geese all stood staring at the car as though they were experiencing ultimate enlightenment.
Well, if was enlightenment they wanted.... with a chuckle I pulled the key fob from my pocket and pressed the lock button repeatedly causing the car horn to beep.
My expectation had been the geese would scatter in fearful dismay. Instead they cocked their heads first left, then right, and started crowding closer to the car.
Could it be the geese found the sound of the car horn an attraction? Were they whispering in awe to one another, sharing the thrill of having discovered the perfect pitched "honk" they themselves had been striving for over generations?
I'll never know the answer to that question. My neighbor chose that moment to scatter the remnants of a stale loaf of bread on his front stoop and the geese raced off to get first pickings.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
A Lessening of Music
The day the music... lost a survivor.
I was surprised to read that Phil Collins had decided to retire. I was coming to equate him with the energizer rabbit and figured he would keep going for ever.
Genesis drummer become front man, solo artist, film score writer, countless hits and albums to his name, I would have thought "when his time came" someone would find him resting on a piano bench or in a recording studio with a microphone in his hand.
I suppose at some point every artist hits creative exhaustion, but his stepping away from the limelight is a disappointment. With fewer and fewer artists able to take up the gauntlets of the likes of Phil, his retirement has further lessened availability of quality entertainment,
I was surprised to read that Phil Collins had decided to retire. I was coming to equate him with the energizer rabbit and figured he would keep going for ever.
Genesis drummer become front man, solo artist, film score writer, countless hits and albums to his name, I would have thought "when his time came" someone would find him resting on a piano bench or in a recording studio with a microphone in his hand.
I suppose at some point every artist hits creative exhaustion, but his stepping away from the limelight is a disappointment. With fewer and fewer artists able to take up the gauntlets of the likes of Phil, his retirement has further lessened availability of quality entertainment,
Monday, March 7, 2011
Northern Fear
I spent a good part of last week in Minnesota. Business took me there. Those of you who have been following my blog for a while know I would never have gone to Minnesota at this time of year of my own accord.
Cold stalks the cities and forests of that state like a living thing. The inhabitants of Minnesota seem to have reconciled themselves to the danger, but as a visitor I couldn't help but be aware of the threat of death by freezing.
The cold reaches through plate glass windows and tickles the back of your neck even when the thermostat inside of a building is set for seventy-two or higher. Once beyond the shelter of four walls, howling winds drive the cold deep inside layer after layer of clothing, leaving you feeling naked to the world.
Early morning light has a frozen quality to it, as though - if struck- the light would shatter and darkness would once again extend icy fingers. Sun, high noon sun, offers the promise of warmth and relief for no more than three hours a day.
My experiences in the far northern climes affirmed the appropriateness of my naming this period of the year the season of nightmare.
Cold stalks the cities and forests of that state like a living thing. The inhabitants of Minnesota seem to have reconciled themselves to the danger, but as a visitor I couldn't help but be aware of the threat of death by freezing.
The cold reaches through plate glass windows and tickles the back of your neck even when the thermostat inside of a building is set for seventy-two or higher. Once beyond the shelter of four walls, howling winds drive the cold deep inside layer after layer of clothing, leaving you feeling naked to the world.
Early morning light has a frozen quality to it, as though - if struck- the light would shatter and darkness would once again extend icy fingers. Sun, high noon sun, offers the promise of warmth and relief for no more than three hours a day.
My experiences in the far northern climes affirmed the appropriateness of my naming this period of the year the season of nightmare.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Waiting for Chocolate
The town of Rehoboth Beach hosted their annual chocolate festival this past Saturday. A friend reported to me that, as in years past, folks were lined up for three city blocks waiting for their chance to sample sweet morsels.
Now I'm not a chocolate lover (I'm sure some of you think that makes me only slightly less questionable than un-American) but even if I did periodically gorge on the sweet stuff I can't imagine waiting for hours to do a taste test.
The actual sampling takes place withing the convention center. I can only hope that after their long wait afficiandos are at least entertained by juggling Oompa-loompah's or something.
After consuming vast quantities of chocolate you know those folks must have been ready to try out for the olympic track team. Thank goodness the weather cooperated so consumers could burn off their choco-stimulus with a few mile long laps on the boardwalk.
Now I'm not a chocolate lover (I'm sure some of you think that makes me only slightly less questionable than un-American) but even if I did periodically gorge on the sweet stuff I can't imagine waiting for hours to do a taste test.
The actual sampling takes place withing the convention center. I can only hope that after their long wait afficiandos are at least entertained by juggling Oompa-loompah's or something.
After consuming vast quantities of chocolate you know those folks must have been ready to try out for the olympic track team. Thank goodness the weather cooperated so consumers could burn off their choco-stimulus with a few mile long laps on the boardwalk.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)