Friday, June 4, 2010

Summer, or, "Drill Baby Drill"

Wow. I posted once about "marking time." I should have paid more attention to that when I wrote "Spring." Where did the time go? While it's not quite summer officially, it is clearly summer in the minds of anyone who goes to school, has kids in school or who pays attention to school. It's summer.

Spring blossomed early this year. A warm dry April gave way to a warm wet May which concluded with one of the hottest, sunniest Memorial Day weekends I can remember in a long time. It was in the 80's all weekend. And to think they moved the Nicklaus Memorial Golf Tournament to the following weekend, just because it was often too cold to play in comfort over Memorial Weekend. And Spring unfolded as I described. It always does. Most of the time we just don't pay attention and spend all our time in our urban jungles rather than out in the country where the woods transform from a translucent winter veil to a dense, thick opaque curtain which hides the many scars we humans inflict upon nature.

Here's a question. What good will come of the oil spill? I sit back and wonder why the youth of America isn't more outraged. Why we all aren't more outraged by this accident. And perhaps that's why. . . . I used the word "accident." We have been conditioned to use that word but it really wasn't an accident. If something is preventable and we let it happen, is that an "accident?" Perhaps at this point we all just want to see the flow shut off. Then we want to see how bad it will impact us individually. And then, if the personal impact is sufficiently severe, we will react. We will get mad. I hope I am wrong. I think I am. I pray we look at this disaster and quickly grasp the severe environmental consequences and the impact on us all. I pray we will take action, in some form, hopefully many forms, to make sure such a disaster doesn't happen again. Will this disaster temper our new found love of Nuclear Energy? Will it slow the "drill baby drill" mentality. Will it help us embrace and develop less risky energy alternatives such as geothermal and wind?

We don't need more fossil fuel. We need to act now. We need to take serious action. Politicians tend to take the easy road. The popular road. "Drill baby drill." Some thought this a simple solution to our dependence on foreign oil. How many times did we hear that chant. I cringed each time. How about "conserve baby conserve?" How about "wind turbines baby wind turbins" or we amend the "drill baby drill" into a reference to geothermal energy. Wouldn't it be safer to drill a mile deep hole to tap into geothermal resources?

Some scientists are now hoping for a hurricane. They think the storm surge might push the oil slick over the top of the fragile ecosystem in the lowlands of Louisiana and onto higher ground. Sounds ridiculous to me. I like better the farmers who want to use the huge abundance of straw and hay to soak up the oil. They make more sense than prognosticators who suggest that the inevitable hurricane will improve the situation.

Let's take a realistic look at our huge appetite for energy. At the very least, kids, can you turn off the lights?

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Spring

As I step out of the house, the freshness of the air bombards my sense of smell. Something I haven't smelled in many months. My skin notices too. It feels the warmth of the morning's breath. As I stand on the porch and take a deep breath, I am relaxed, suddenly realizing what is most remarkable is my lack of physical reaction to the warm air. I am not bracing against the cold, that odd reaction we have, instinctively recoiling to hold in the warm air under our coats. Then, I notice. I am squinting. The Sun! Blessed sunshine. Vitamin D. Where have you been?

As I watched the summer turn to Fall, I recognized the finer stages of Fall. Sure, the leaves change colors and fall, but think about Winter. Everything in the Midwest is brown. Even the grass. But it doesn't happen all at once. For a while, after the leaves have fallen and the underbrush has died back, the grass is still green. It provides a last view of summer. A long goodbye.

So it's fitting that as Winter loses its grip, the grass is the first to respond. Brightening up our lives with color we haven't seen since November. Buds begin to form along branches. Crocus and narcissus and daffodils begin to poke through the faded mulch. The woodland underbrush begins to take on a slight shade of green. At first it's like a cloud in the woods. Just slightly visible over the brown. Almost overnight the buds fatten and pop open. Flowers begin to emerge amidst the branches. And spring explodes into a rhythm of color and a cacophany of birds newly returned from their southern sojourn. We all begin to feel better, more alive. And the promise of summer fun, bike rides, boating, swimming pools, golf, baseball, hiking, picnics and more, shines like a rainbow at the end of a summer storm.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

White Stuff

As I slogged through the gritty grey snow that carpeted the roadway, snow falling madly about, piling up on anything and everything, including my head as I hurried into the office, I reflected on the change of heart I have had with winter. It's reflective of a transformation we must all fight throughout our "growing up." The lost innocence, the lost simplicity of enjoying the snowfall and all the fun it could bring if you just embraced it.

From my childhood, I have many enduring moments. Why some stand out so clearly, I will never know. I am not one who can recall all the moments from my past. I have friends from college and high school who I love to share reunions with because they never seem to forget any event we shared. They revel in stories I recall only as the tale unfolds, still forgetting details likely exaggerated by time and the gift of story telling.

Yet I have moments that stand out as clear as any in my memory. Some of these memories are obviously important events in my life, others are simply random moments that shine through the haze of age like lighthouses in a lifting fog. In one of those moments, I was on my bicycle. I was riding down Briar Avenue, which runs at a 90 degree angle from our house, like an arrow pointing to opportunities that lay somewhere "out there." As I rode down Briar, I must have been reflecting on some complication in an adult's life, some moment of madness or trauma, fear or loathing, anger or frustration. I just don't recall. But what I recall most vividly is my reflection on how simple life is. How easy it is to be happy. Life was beautiful. I don't know how old I was, I don't recall if it was before or after my mother's untimely and premature death. But I simply recall thinking, "Life is simple. Be happy." And in the wisdom of my youth, I knew that adult had lost their way somehow.

As I grew older and reflected on that moment, I observed how many adults, in the effort to be happy, simply make bad choices. They follow complicated paths pursuing happiness that could be theirs if they simply took the time to appreciate the blessings of their life. If they simply slowed down enough to see the beauty of their friends, their loved ones and the world around them.

The other night we went to see "How, How, Why, Why..." It's basically a monologue about the author/performer's life events and his personal reflection on the blessings of his life. He has included in his story path a lovely and entertaining, almost sassy, lady who sings and plays the accordian and guitar. She sings in a way that lets you hear the words of a song as if you are hearing them for the first time. I'm not sure how she does it. She was enthralling to me. But the bottom line for me was that here was a guy who had one very deformed arm and one perfectly good arm that he ruined in a motorcycle crash. Ironically, his useless, deformed arm became his very useful "good arm." He adapted. And as he poignantly reflected, his prayers had changed from asking God for things to thanking God for his blessings. And, as a result of that shift, he found many blessings in his world that he never would have found, but for the "blessing" of a motorcycle wreck that nearly killed him and ruined the one good arm he once enjoyed.

I've met a similar story once before. As I reflected to others on this experience, more than one person has suggested that the change in attitude, not God, brought the blessings into these lives. Perhaps. Perhaps not. But the answer is not so important as the fact.

Be thankful. Life can be simple and beautiful. Let it be.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Marking Time

Have you ever "marked time?" You do every day or week, but may not realize that's what you are doing. It came to me when I thought back to a moment of anticipation which moment concerned an event now past. And I recalled thinking how far off the event seemed at that moment of anticipation and yet, it was already over. Where had the time gone?


So the next time I sat contemplating a future event I just "couldn't wait to arrive," I "Marked Time." I consciously reflected on the time that would pass before the event anticipated. I reflected on the "present." Focused on it intently. How I felt, emotionally, physically. Observed the passage of an hour and how long that seemed to take. And then I let Nature and Father Time take their course, intending to Mark Time again as soon as I was conscious of the passage of time, as soon as I had a moment of reflection, maybe a day later, often a week or two later, now closer to the event. And at that moment, I again Mark Time, looking both backward to the last moment of Marked Time and forward to the anticipated event.

What always impresses me first is how quickly time seems to pass. I tend to focus a lot on the fact that the "present" which seemed so far in the future is here now. And the anticipated event is now so much closer. But mostly I tend to reflect on the passage of time. How I intended to reflect sooner on that passage, but events and life kept me from that moment of contemplation, allowing days to pass, sometimes weeks. In so doing I realize that impresses me most is not how quickly time passes, but how much time passes without our realizing it.

We informally and unconsciously mark time every week, sometimes every day. It's Thursday and we say, "I can't believe its Thursday already." Or it's 4:00 PM and we say, "I can't believe how late it is already." We mark the week on Monday morning and we mark the beginning of a work day when we leave for our jobs.


I sometimes simply mark time until tomorrow. As you contemplate tomorrow and what you will be doing, anything at all, Mark Time until that event. And as you sit at Dinner or you lie in bed the next evening, think back to the moment you marked time. How the present, which was the future is here upon you and your moment of Marked Time is in the past; only a memory of how you felt, what you were looking forward to, all of which has now rushed past you. And think how you were wholly unconscious of the passage of time for most of the time that passed...even though you were trying to pay attention. It's just odd to me to sit in the future, which has become the present and think about that moment in the past where you concentrated so hard on the present.

Of course, as you age, time travels faster. I suppose Einstein had a theory to explain this. Perhaps it is explained by relativity. That the closer you get to the end, the time remaining relative to your entire life span, grows shorter, making time seem to travel faster. Or more likely, it's just the opposite. When you are ten years old and time seems to crawl, a year is a 1/10th of your existence. When you are fifty, a year is but 1/50th of your existence. So from a relative standpoint, time seems to travel much faster.

If you ever contemplate this exercise, use it as a moment to focus on the reality that for many, tomorrow will not come. And for many of those many, that will come as a surprise. Life is full of surprises. So go out and live accordingly. Live as if this is your last day or week or month on earth. Live as if you have a short time left. Maximize your opportunities to love one another. Tell those around you how much you love and appreciate them. Give them the chance to tell you how much you are loved. And all will be the better for all.

What Do We Live For?

We live for what? Today? Tomorrow? Yesterday? Memories? Anticipation? Or for the incredible joys of life, the unexpected pleasures, the tiniest moments, such as discovering previously unknown water chimes: the sound of broken chunks of ice tinkling along the shore of a partially frozen lake on a beautiful sunny day in early January? Or the feel of a snow flake as it hits your nose and melts in the very second your eyes begin to focus on it as a flake and at the moment of focus is instead a droplet.

Do we live for ourselves or our parents, our children, the poor who need our support, the grieving who need our love, the loves of our lives who bring us joy, often in unexpected ways?

Do we live for the incredible beauty of the mountains, sunsets by the sea, the awesome power of waves crashing against the rocks, the incredible grandeur of our valleys and canyons, the beauty of a smile?

Do we live for the everyday beauty that surrounds us? The moments of unexpected kindness, the smallest joys that make us smile, the simple pleasures that warm our hearts?

Do we live for the rewards we reap when we give of ourselves? The hint of hope our gifts provide? The lift in spirit of those lacking fire? The glimmer of hope when darkness reigns supreme?

Do we live for the challenges, the fears overcome, the panic stopped, the triumph of hope over despair? The feeling of accomplishment, of pride, when we fall and fail and get up to try again? When we throw off our burdens, reject their hold and attain our goals?

There are so many blessings in life. These are but a tiniest fraction. Share some of yours with those you love.

Live for today. Plan for tomorrow. But don't plan on tomorrow for it may never come.