Musings

I don’t ride horses. Most people I know don’t either. Somehow, though, the image of someone falling off a horse or getting bucked only to turn around and get right back on…somehow that image is one to which most can relate.

Don’t give up. Most of the time, we give up because we’re afraid. Yes, falling off a horse can be dangerous, even deadly. However, most of us aren’t getting thrown from horses. Most of us just run the risk of being wrong or looking stupid. Not much risk in that.

So…the saddle: get back in it. I’m getting back in mine…

Basements make for good analogies, and we all know that I like analogies.

A basement is naturally a dark place. You can do things with artificial lighting to fight the darkness, but a basement is still an inherently dark place. It is a place where things go to hide. Or to die.

There is a basement in all of us, a place where we store and horde and hide. More often than not, the physical basement becomes a manifestation of the metaphysical basement. All the things that our psyches cannot release find their way downstairs, below ground. The space beneath our houses becomes a dwelling place for many of the things that have no business in our lives, let alone our homes.

I know this isn’t always the case; I’ve seen plenty of finished basements that rival any other floor in a particular home. Go with me, though; I’m running after a metaphor here.

And this is where I am headed: basements, inside or outside of us, are by default dark places. It is easy to hide away in them. It is easy to horde. It is easy to allow clutter to take over. If in Feng Shui clutter under a bed is bad, imagine the influence that a whole basement full of trapped energy can have. It can’t be good, of course.

I used to fancy myself a basement philosopher. I thought that sounded catchy. I thought it was “cute,” if you will. I recognize now that the label is symptomatic of the maelstrom of things which are better released than hidden away. A basement philosopher, after all, is hidden away in darkness. That is no place for to live and learn…and thrive.

So, I bid that basement under the house by the lake farewell. I bid that house itself farewell. Better, I think, to philosophize in the light. No use hiding. There is far more to be gained by living out in the open.

Over a decade ago, a friend of mine used to say that you have to keep getting emotionally healthier as you get older.  He meant it as advice for learning how to cope with life’s difficulties…the complexities of creating an increasingly hectic, modern life.  Something to do with escalating job commitments and kids and getting tired of being married to the same person for all those years…that kind of thing.  It was good advice.

Today is December 1, 2010, and I find myself having to call upon all the powers of “healthier” that I’ve managed to accumulate over the years.  There’s lots to accomplish in a very compressed time, and the desire to crawl into a dark space and let the overwhelmingness overwhelm me is quite…overwhelming.

Of course, I can’t exactly do that.  I’ve passed that moment when the critical mass of a situation gets so great that the only choice is action.  As is customary in my personal life, I’ve managed to procrastinate to the point that I’m not verging on a low-grade yet still hysterical nervous breakdown.  Hyperbole, for sure, but you get the point: no choice but to move now.  And I have to move quickly.

Sounds like a bummer, no?  Well, I could complain, but that won’t make any of the moving parts move faster.  Complaining also won’t cause all my self-inflicted troubles to go away.  No, the only real option is to focus…focus and buckle down, as they say.  There is work to do, there is a short period in which to do it, and there are people relying on me to do.  So, I will do.

Hello, December.  Looks like we’ll be heading full steam into the finish line.  I just hope there’s something left when it’s all said and done!

Thank you, most benevolent and generous Universe, for providing me with precisely that which I need most.

Thank you for not listening to me when I ask for what I want and instead giving me what I deserve.

Thank you for ignoring me when I wish for material things and granting me the spiritual gifts for which I truly yearn.

Thank you for the kind, warm, loving souls with whom my life has become interconnected. Through time and space I remain a part of the vast web of humanity cast across our shared world, but nothing makes your lessons more personal than these human beings who walk the path with me.

Thank you for my family of origin, all of my “in-laws,” and the family of friends whom I have chosen to allow into my life and who have chosen me.

And most of all, thank you for my wife and my boys. Nothing makes my journey more worthwhile than their love, trust, and understanding.

Thank you for everything.

Thank you.

I suspect that the number one reason that lawnmower repair people exist is because there’s a large volume of people who can’t or don’t want to repair their own lawnmowers.  

That’s right; I came up with that all on my own.  Call me Socrates.

Nobody wants to break their lawnmower…that’s why most people don’t try to fix it.  If you break it, then somebody else has to fix it…parts, labor, time out of commission…the whole bit.  If you don’t break it, then somebody else has to fix it…parts, labor, time out of commission…the whole bit.  See that?  Same bit.  Same situation.  Same outcome.  Maybe the cost is lower if you don’t try to fix it yourself.  And maybe it is easier and takes less time to drop it off somewhere, go about your day, then return later on to pick up your newly-repaired lawnmower.

So, don’t bother fixing it yourself.  Let the qualified repair person fix it.

I read the best quote today:

Father: “Who taught you that?  Do they teach you that at school?”

9-year-old programming prodigy, exasperated: “No, Daddy!  You can teach yourself that.”

Is there anything that we cannot teach ourselves?  I suspect not.  I think that the number one thing that keeps us from teaching ourself something new, out of interest or out of necessity, is fear.  I am talking about fear of breaking the lawnmower.

Remember, the worst that can happen when your lawnmower stops working is that you try to fix it, break it, and pay for it, literally, in your local currency.  If you have to buy a new one altogether…ouch.  That sucks.  A good lawnmower isn’t cheap.  But, that’s it.  That’s all that happens.

But…if you muster up a little courage and start loosening screws…  

You might just wind up fixing that lawnmower.  Maybe, just maybe, with the help of a friend on the phone, a video on Youtube, and some articles online, you might actually wind up fixing the lawnmower.  Sounds silly, huh?  A grown man having an epiphany because he got a 12-year-old lawnmower working again?  Hey, it happens.

All too often, the very worst that can happen if you go ahead and try something for yourself is that you might wind up having to say, “Honey…I broke the lawnmower…”

The best?  From something as trivial as fixing a lawnmower?  Who knows.  Who knows what can happen when you prove to yourself, for the umptillionth time, that you can pretty much teach yourself to do anything…

On most Friday nights, there’s a lot of commotion caused by little boys.  Hooting.  Hollering.  Screaming.  Crying.  Stomping.  Laughing.  All kinds of noises, all mixed up.  They are the sounds of my family, and they are good.  However, a the end of some weeks, on some Friday nights, I’d prefer a little more…tranquility.  Just a break, you know?  Mommy and Daddy deserve a break.

On the occasional Friday night, we get that break.  All the commotion is elsewhere.  I love those boys, but…for Pete’s sake…the silence is good.

Oh, I’ll miss them by tomorrow afternoon, I’m sure, but, for now, I’ll enjoy the silence of the occasional Friday night.