Congruence

I believe we all wander through life, at times or for a time, cloaked with various masks, skins of textured facades, living as much with our fabricated external selves as with our inner truth. Therein rests our deepest self, the pain, loss, ache of life’s journeys won and lost. Therein lies that being so often sought and revered as the true self, the real us – with its’ complete measure of joy and depth.

Yet, is either the outer or inner more real? Are we not both mask and soul?

The beauty and grace of the dance, without the well hidden strain and sweat of the all but stumbling artist would not exist, nor would the precarious effort have any value, but for the fabric of the art finding form.

It is a dance, of sorts, this thing we call life - isn't it?

Quoting

Philosophy is a battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence by means of language. - Ludwig Wittgenstein

6 of One...

I have been tagged so that I may embrace blogging self-centeredness and force the same on others. I will enjoy this. Thank you bellamocha for the tag, and now on to the task.

6 unspectacular quirks of mine

1. Locks – I think locks should be locked and latches latched so I do both regularly (obsessively?).
2. Poetry – when I try to describe my thoughts, ideas, or concepts they naturally come out in poetic images and expressions. It is as natural for me as water cascading over mossen stones... heh.
3. Trilogy – I tend to think of three examples and categories for everything. So doing this list of 6 is like doing it twice as far as I’m concerned.
4. Tall sitting – I am average height (5’7” – ok I’m short) but when I am sitting I tend to be the same height as much taller people. This means my legs are short and the rest of me is tall.
5. Questions – I love asking questions, especially when it is in response to a question. My colleagues and family find this habit aggravating. I like it – the habit and their aggravation.
6. Attitude – I am courageously committed to the belief that my attitude does in fact decide my life’s path. It isn't that I don’t sometimes feel sad, negative, and disparate – and I believe it is my responsibility to manage my outlook and that my success is directly proportional to how well I do just that.

Taggage – I tag Dena, Monica, Paige, Mr. Althouse, Addict and Simonne.

Here are the rules from Bellamocha:

1. Link the person who tagged you.
2. Mention the rules on your blog.
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours.
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them.
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they've been tagged.

Have a great day!

Nonsensical?

Why is it that we insist, and I do mean “we” for it is my plot as well, in making sense of life – our life? Making sense of it all is a feeble attempt to remove the inherent mystery of life. Life does not ‘make sense’ if we mean by such rhetoric that life can be fully understood and explained in the same manner one might give directions to a favorite restaurant.

Myth, mystery, paradigm are words more akin to describing life, one’s life, one’s journey. Yet, we persist in trying to explain and reason our way through this existence and hope that we can find enough solidity so we may linger for another moment in the vain and frail belief of a life that makes sense. When in fact, are we not confounded by our attempts at truth and fact?

We are left with nothing more than the necessity of surrender as we fall into the chasm that reason cannot grasp and find there not a plummet to the death, but rather a descent of rapturous delight engulfing the senses that plays ever so amusingly with our spirit and carries us aloft, not down, and sets us once again on the seemingly solid ground of tomorrow. There we can imagine that we are secure, safe, and reasonable – until life comes passing again and we are unable to understand, forced to believe in and then against reason, again.

Ours is a riotous ride of delight.

Spanish Moss

Spanish Moss

Clinging to branches among the oaks
Timeless observer of time's passing
You sway through breezes and revolutions
Directing humanity's passage
As if orchestrating a divine symphony

With nothing but a wisp connecting you
To the lofty vantage from which you
Observe us, coy and unaffected
Your slight presence fans our dreams
As a winter wind stirs the smoldering fire

Little more than air feeds you
A hint of sea salt to spice your tasting
Of our adventures and chaos
You remain, lingering luscious
As the memory of a lover's sigh

Eternally upon us

Spanish Moss

Clinging to branches among the oaks
Timeless observer of time's passing
You sway through breezes and revolutions
Directing humanity's passage
As if orchestrating a divine symphony

With nothing but a wisp connecting you
To the lofty vantage from which you
Observe us, coy and unaffected
Your slight presence fans our dreams
As a winter wind stirs the smoldering fire

Little more than air feeds you
A hint of sea salt to spice your tasting
Of our adventures and chaos
You remain, lingering luscious
As the memory of a lover's sigh

Eternally upon us

Success Is When You Win

The Pelican

A wonderful bird is the pelican,
His mouth can hold more than his belly can,
He can hold in his beak,
Enough food for a week!
I'm damned if I know how the hell he can!

-Dixon Lanier Merritt, a Southern newspaper editor and President of the American Press Humorists Association, penned this famous limerick in 1910. It is carved in stone and displayed prominently at Brook Green gardens in SC.

Watching several Pelicans feed in the tributaries of Murrells Inlet, SC, I was taken by how often they fail to catch fish. It is fairly easy to mark a successful dive, as the stately bird will raise its beak skyward to send the fish wiggling down its gullet. I began keeping score. I counted a total of twenty five dives between four birds and could only verify a catch seven times. With a slightly better than 25% success rate, these gobbling fowl still are known as great fishers.

I guess nature confirms the old saying, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”

1. Hunger for something will keep you trying.
2. The pain of failure is quickly forgotten once the benefits of success arrive.
3. Never give up.

Truth In Advertising!

ExOfficio™ touts that there Give-N-Go briefs are the most comfortable and functional underwear that you can buy. I have seen their ad displayed at a local outdoor supply store for a couple of years and thought, “What the heck. I’ll give it a try.”

The ad slogan reads - 17 countries. 6 weeks. 2 pairs of underwear.

I had eight days in Bermuda and took two pairs of ExOfficio™ briefs. As a safe guard (a man has to be careful) I also packed additional underwear – just in case.

Result – 8 ½ days. 1 pair of underwear (and a couple of swim shorts).

It isn’t a gross as it sounds. Honest. I would have used two pairs, but a lot of my time was spent in bathing shorts, so there was plenty of time for the 1 pair to dry in-between wearing.

All I am saying is that the briefs lived up to their claim of comfort, durability, and ease of use. Simply follow the instructions on washing, care and wear and you are good to go, and go, and go, and go…

I have even switched to the ExOfficio™ briefs for all my hiking.

I dub them the “Energizer Bunny of Underwear.”

Go get you some here.

On Having Lunch at Panera

The din resonates
Countless voices frantically
Proclaim facades and personas

Below the cascade
Simplistic souls stand
Wall flowers alone and longing

Within, a voice asks
Shall we dance?

Good Morning Life

Virtually, each morning I am the first awake in my household. I shower, dress for work, feed and care for the dogs. In the quiet of the predawn dark, I check my email, print my work schedule, and perhaps, if time allows, visit a blog friend or two.

The dogs rush with me back upstairs and are off to nestle in bed with my wife. I wash a few dishes from the night before, make coffee and in rhythm to the churning drips and gentle aromas, prepare my breakfast. I usually have a bowl of cereal topped with some fresh fruit and a little protein powder. In the dim light of morn, I walk out front to retrieve the paper, scanning the headlines as I settle back at the table to eat, sip coffee with a touch of cream, and begin my day.

Shortly, I make my way back upstairs, walk quietly into my bedroom, and into the bathroom. I shut the door in darkness and turn on the light. A moment spent brushing my teeth and then I turn out the light. I pause, just allowing my eyes to adjust, open the door to the bedroom and as much by touch as sight, find my way to the bedside. I follow my touch, finger tips tracing the mattress top, over her pillow to the top of her head. I lean over slightly and kiss her.

“Have a great day,” I always say softly.

Sometimes she will whisper a similar greeting, words finding their way through sleep’s veil. Sometimes she will remain silent, perhaps unconscious of my presence, captured still by the arms of deepest slumber. Yet, always, always, she will stir a bit; snuggling toward the sleeping dogs.

In that moment I know why I work, why I strive to be a better man, and why I am so determined to succeed today. In that moment, I am alive as much as any man can be, and I am grateful.