At Both Ends, To The Middle

I look at the stars along the water from that place that's "nowhere,” where you can see the unveiled faintest fibers of the night tapestry of the sky.

They move because you move.

At 17, your universe expands - and the memories you have are set apart among only a few.

They can breathe and radiate.

The present happens, then is enshrined. They become holier and more mythical as time passes.

You are aware you are growing.

Move forward ...

"Future is as future does."

They multiply.

"This reminds of me of this. But, no, it's still new."

"This memory is unlike ...no, it is like everything I have seen."

Your purest memories – the ones you feel more than remember - are borne only from places unexplored.

You remember them only so far as you can feel them in their present.

The intricately patterned poisonous snake. The billowing steam of locker room shower. Lost in the parking lot. The day you remember surrendering your most-precious thing to the world.

A million musical notes coalescing.

Tonight the relics are overwhelming me.

And the time and space for them is compressing.

Unfortunately, being a human being, I am unable to be anything but human.

I can understand only as this curious collection of particles

Finiteness.

I’ve lost traction.

Everything is onward flowing forward.

There's just now less to drift toward - and only so much newness left - a priceless blessing.

Measure

I've thought the measure of a man
is to be fair, honest and ... just.
Justice is righteous.
In justice, you know what the weight of evidence would say.
Fair and honest to all.
That's the thing it says.

But kind?
Fairness and honesty are not kindness.
Kindness shines a light into the abyss,
Fairness, honesty ...
They are the illusion of being a good man.

It's A Plus When They Include Coupons

Old calendars are worth keeping.

Where exactly, I don't know - but wherever you keep things you go back to on some unsuspected day.

The advent of the smartphone takes away much of the scribbling on the calendar tacked to the wall, but what is there makes the $6.99 re-gift priceless.

Your life is chronicled in a unique way. It shows what you're going to do, not how it turned out. There's value in seeing your anticipation (or dread) of something that - one way or another - has to be on the calendar.

The beach vacation you have to schedule for. The doctor visit for the Big Test. The basketball games you play or coach.

There was a concert you were going to that day. How could you know it would be one of the best times of your life?

How could you know that The Nutcracker elementary school field trip would inspire your child as you were once inspired?
Sure, much of what imprints upon our souls are those events that seem to schedule themselves.

But still ... while it was on the calendar, you just didn't know how it was going to turn out.

I try to make each day meaningful. Or at least I wish they could be.

So often the days breeze by.

Yet another. Then another.

But when I look back, between the squares with the Sharpie markings in four different handwritings, I can begin to document how significant my life has been for a year. And how I never knew how it would unfold.

Patchwork

I remember a long time ago when I would duct-tape my entire life together.
Those days were ...
And now ... just right around the corner in an instant.

Close Enough

I spend a good bit of my life writing things that I don't find interesting at all.

Yet when I do find myself writing something worthwhile, there is almost always one constant: I'm using a thesaurus.

It used to be this red book with half the cover torn off. Published in 1990. I think I picked it up at my first newspaper job almost 15 years ago.

Googling "thesaurus" doesn't seem nearly as artistic or sentimental, but in truth, it opens up a lot more in the way of possibilities to express something.

And that's what's at the center of it.

When you're trying to share a nuanced idea in a conversation, you might say, "Hold on ... I'm trying to find the right word ..."

Of course, you don't pick up a thesaurus.

You feel what it is that's in your mind and connect with the words.

Recently, I struggled with the best way to describe an unexpected event.

"Shocking" just seems so overused and non-specific and tabloid.

The idea was more subtle.

"Startlingly."

That was it. It was the perfect word for what I was trying to say.

It's like you tap into your life experiences, compare them with others and rely on a resource to offer you the best possible ways to share how you internalize an idea.

I know I'm writing something that is precious to me if I care enough to find a better way to share even the simplest of ideas.

P.S. - I probably should have used a thesaurus to write this.