What I Am Not Saying
Sometimes this blog feels like too much of an obligation. I feel that I should write something on a regular enough basis, for whomever might actually read it. I feel I should be in touch enough with my perceptions and observations that they should naturally flow out of me, that I cannot help but blog.
But reality is that I go through spurts here. The pace of my days simply makes it hard to have a regular, set-aside time just to blog. That same pace probably hinders some of the reflection that could be taking place. As a result, I am not sure what I am not saying--because the words need a chance to incubate, they require some stillness from the grind in order to unleash their latent potential. What insights am I missing, and are the substitute activities that replace these insights truly worth such a price?
Even right now, while I have some down town...the house is quiet and still. Some of my favorite music is percolating through the new iPod I have just purchased. And there feels like there is so little to give, such little profundity to offer. I have next to nothing to say.
Maybe the premise that we must say something deep on a regular enough basis is faulty. It feels like a lot of pressure. I have probably contributed to such pressure in my own demanding ways. I don't like hackneyed song lyrics, or formulaic Hollywood movies. I want a lighter shade of pale, a new twist, an acknowledgment of the struggle, a not so neat and not so tidy ending. I demand much out of the artists, the writers, the teachers of our culture.
But often I am living out the same cliches I pontificate to despise. Maybe everyone--including me--is thinking as best they can in the moment. Maybe, with the flood of information and ideas being contributed every nanosecond, what we need are fewer profound insights. Perhaps we need to enjoy the present moment, instead of always looking for what is inherently missing in the moment and what more needs to be said. Maybe what is could simply be allowed to be what is.
Frank Sinatra's "It Was A Very Good Year" just started playing. I really love this song--celebrating key seasons of youthful life, from the vantage point of emerging winter. I wonder if those "very good years" are times of reflection or fully embracing the season. What gives life its greater purpose--making the most of what it is, or constantly searching for how to make it better?
"I think of my life as vintage wine
From fine old kegs."
So sings the late Ole' Blue Eyes. Sounds like a great way to finish.