Next up: Locking

"One sort of optional thing you might do is to realize there are six seasons instead of four.  The poetry of four seasons is all wrong for this part of the planet.... I mean, Spring doesn't feel like Spring a lot of the time, and November is all wrong for Fall and so on.  Here is the truth about the seasons: Spring is May and June!  What could be springier than May and June?  Summer is July and August.  Really hot, right?  Autumn is September and October.  See the pumpkins?  Smell those burning leaves.  Next comes the season called 'Locking.'  That is when Nature shuts everything down.  November and December aren't Winter.  They're Locking.  Next comes Winter, January and February.  Boy!  Are they ever cold!  What comes next?  Not Spring.  Unlocking comes next.  What else could April be?"


--Kurt Vonnegut, in advice to SUNY Fredonia graduates, 1978

Slainte!

October has been blissfully wedding filled, and in a few short weeks I've learned to whip,  nae nae, bop (bop bop bop bop bop), stanky leg, and even wobble.  My superman needs a little practice but by the time I master it, there will be a new dance and my wobble nae nae superman whip will go in the shed along with the Macarena and Gagnam style, gathering dust with the running man, and hammer thing I learned in 8th grade. 
The cherry on top of these nuptials was the wedding of my favorite older brother.  My favorite younger brother gave a wonderful speech, and though there was much ribbing throughout the night, such as quoting Aunt Voula---"We never think it could happen never!"---there was much truth, such as that my older brother is one of the most generous people known.  "He'd give you the shirt off his back," might have been coined to describe him.  His "yes" is not limited to a small personal circle but literally to any creature he encounters who might need anything at all, and he married an equally generous person, a woman Franciscan in her love for dogs and underdogs and living breathing beings. 
My daughter had the honor of fulfilling a three year wish, which was to be a flower girl, and I had the honor to read at the wedding Mass.  So much joy has lingered with me from the event and the reading I was given has been part of that as well.  When I received the printed text, I was like, "Opa!"  There are so many possible readings to be assigned and I got the plumb pick. 
It is indeed a most excellent way to live: attempting to remember, and live from, the one thing that never fails. 
Any bad decisions I've made have been a reflection of wandering from these truths; anytime I've used these words as the basis of a choice, I've never chosen wrong.  For everything that we've piled on top of what love is supposed to be, what friendships and circumstances are supposed to be, this reading shakes it off and gently corrects.  Cheers to that. 

Brother and Sisters:

Strive eagerly for the greatest spiritual gifts.


But I shall show you a still more excellent way.

If I speak in human and angelic tongues

But do not have love,

I am a resounding gong or clashing cymbal.

And if I have the gift of prophecy

and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge;

if I have all faith so as to move mountains,

but do not have love, I am nothing.

If I give away everything I own,

and if I hand my body over so that I may boast

but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind.

It is not jealous, is not pompous,

it is not inflated, it is not rude,

it does not seek its own interests,

it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over

injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing

but rejoices with the truth.

It bears all things, believes all things,

hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails.

Ask away

The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.

Albert Einstein

#9

This week I flipped through a book of old cd's and picked one I hadn't listened to in a few years. Good songs never get old, and this cd was composed from the incredibly cool project Playing for Change. I was familiar with most of the covers sung, but one was new to my ears the first time I heard it. Tonight I looked up the song to finally figure out it's origin, and a surprising story unfolded. Though it was written by U2 with creative support from Bob Dylan, the version I've been listening to is sung by The Omagh Community Youth Choir of Northern Ireland.

Northern Ireland is one of the most breathtaking places in the world, it's crashing coastline and immense raw beauty the exterior, it's walled cities, painted curbs, fences, gates, and murals part of the ongoing inheritance of heartbreak within.

So what a beautiful thing to stumble upon, this song that is so lifting, coming from the center of a place so divided.

Official Definition

Nocturnal: a creature that will find the loudest activity possible just after you've fallen into a light sleep, and continue this activity for 12 hours straight, or until 30 minutes before you are set to rise. Activity could be a squeaky wheel, loud gnawing, throwing it's body from one story of it's 'enclosure' to another, or slurping its water.

*this definition brought to you by a dwarf hamster, net weight .27 ounces

*only creature I've encountered that slurps water louder than....an animal that ingests water loudly. I'm too sleepy for accurate analogies.

Sunday's Song: by St. Cohen

Written after Leonard Cohen ran into the Sisters of Mercy.
Oh, I do hope you run into them.