June 20, 2013

sorrow

Give sorrow words;
the grief that does not speak;
whispers the o’er-fraught heart
and bids it break.
- William Shakespeare from MacBeth

Forget the future. I'd worship someone who could do that.
- Rumi

     Once again, I enter deep into the vale of tears, in fact further than I've ever tread before, as our son is suffering.  While I could blog about my brother's and father's illness, I will not do so of my son's.  His medical condition is that of someone who is not yet an adult and as such, deserves the privacy afforded to him.  All that I will say it is not cancer this time, but it is just as life threatening and is fundamentally life altering.  Much like with my brother and my dad, there is no going back to the way things were before.  So if my blog turns dark and gloomy without any details, you will know why.

June 17, 2013

a fine place to hesitate

There is a lake between sun and moon
Not too many know about
In the silence between whisper and shout
The space between wonder and doubt

This is a fine place
Shining face to face
Those bonfire lights in the mirror of sky
The space between wonder and why

Ahh, yes to
Why the sun?
Why the sun?

There is a fine line between love and illusion
A fine place to penetrate
The gap between actor and act
The lens between wishes and fact
 
 
THIS is a fine place
To hesitate
Those bonfire lights in the lake of sky
The time between wonder and why

Ahh, yes to
Why the sun?
Why the sun?

Some need to pray to the sun at high noon
Need to howl at the midwinter moon
Reborn and baptized in a moment of grace
We just need a break
From the headlong race

This is a fine place
Shining face to face
Those bonfire lights in the mirrored sky
The space between wonder and why

Ahh, yes to
Why the sun?
Why the sun?
- pye dubois & neil peart


June 14, 2013

solitude

video

I have lately got back to that glorious society called Solitude.
- henry david thoreau

June 10, 2013

first, to endure

     The extra vertebrae in my back along with their respective degenerative disks cried out in pain.  The terrain was a glorified walk of only 2 miles with no altitude gain.  And while my backpack was not light, I had carried far heavier far further far higher in my past.  I expected my back to hurt but even my legs were getting a bit wobbly by the second mile.  My dog paused obediently whenever I had to stop for a few seconds to catch my breath but she looked at me expectantly.  She had cardiac damage from heart worms and she was kicking my butt.  What the hell happened to me?  I used to be able to do far more physically.
     I recalled an email from another student who was also older than the average student.  In it he counseled me, "Man, stay in shape now while you still can or med school hours WILL damage your health."  It seems that it had indeed taken its toll on my physical health.  But sitting on a rock, petting my lone and faithful furry hiking companion, med school may have taken some toll, but I was stupid to think it was just that.  I laughed grimly at myself.  What had happened to me?  I really had to ask such a question of myself?  Life had kicked the ever living shit out of me.  Physically, mentally and emotionally.  That's what happened to my body.
     And while I reflexively resolved to get myself back into shape with some gung-ho enthusiasm, I immediately tempered that with realism.  Be a bit more forgiving towards myself.  That's great to get back into shape, but first, I must endure.  And enduring metaphysically is the ultimate goal for me right now and that's ok.  That philosophy of life has served me well.

June 7, 2013

answering the call of the wild



But especially he loved to run in the dim twilight of the summer midnights, listening to the subdued and sleepy murmurs of the forest, reading signs and sounds as a man may read a book, and seeking for the mysterious something that called -- called, waking or sleeping, at all times, for him to come.
- jack london

June 4, 2013

call of the wild


Sometimes he pursued the call into the forest, looking for it as though it were a tangible thing, barking softly or defiantly... Irresistible impulses seized him. he would be lying in camp, dozing lazily in the heat of the day, when suddenly his head would lift and his ears cock up, intent and listening, and he would spring on his feet and dash away, and on and on, for hours, though the forest aisles.
- jack london