A Year Of Kindness (XLI): A Little Kindness Today

 

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When it comes right down to it, we have no control over how our actions become the memories of others - as the saying goes, you can choose your actions but you cannot choose the consequences of your actions.  

Usually we assume that to be in the negative sense - in other words, my actions may have impacts or ramifications that are negative in ways that I cannot anticipate.  But the reverse can and should be equally true as well, that my actions may have impacts or ramifications that are positive in ways that I cannot anticipate.

With that in mind, the call to be kind becomes even more important.  After all, if our actions can have positive outcomes, who knows how our actions of kindness will be remembered for good or make an impact we can never foresee in the life of another?  

And perhaps that is one of the big reveals of Heaven, to see what impacts our kindnesses had - the big ones but just as much the little ones we never thought about.  So in that sense the more we are kind, the more shots on goal we are getting for those revelatory moments.

No kindness, after all, is ever wasted.

October 2026 Grab Bag

 The full force of Autumn leaning into Winter has arrived in New Home 2.0.

I would date it to this past Sunday upon my return (although apparently Saturday was the same):  cloudy, raining, with temperatures in the 50's F/10's C during the day and 40's F/single digit C during the night.  

I drove by The Allotment this week to check on things.  The buckwheat, my last remaining "Summer" crop, has definitely felt the change in weather.  I have one more harvest of seeds there (probably sometime today as you are reading this) and then The Allotment is formally done.

With the change of time this coming Sunday, we will spend our mornings and evenings in darkness.

Welcome, Winter.

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During our visit for my Aunt's funeral, we saw The Cowboy and his wife.  Their precise words were "Your mom and dad would have really liked the people at The Ranch now."

Apparently they are taking as good a care of the property as my father did, and even invited The Cowboy to plant his garden there again this past year.  They did let me know they repainted the living room (no surprise there; pink was always a bit of an unusual colour even for my father).

Although I continue to be surprised by the lack of regret I have for changing the course of my life and letting The Ranch pass on, it is good to know that the people there seem to love it as much as my parents did.  

Another sign that the decision was the correct one.

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The Ravishing Mrs. TB  and I have had some tentative further discussions about Retirement.

Although at least 3 years away, we still have to start making some decisions and plans about it now, or at least trending down that path.  One of the biggest remains, of course, where we will live.  We have talked a bit about moving back to New Home:  it is not my fondest choice for the weather and seasons, but financially it makes a lot of sense as 1) We outright own a home; and 2) There are no state taxes there.

It matters thinking about it now because no matter where we go, likely it will involve a move.  Which means saving for it - I have no intention of moving anything myself at this point and hopefully, this (wherever it ends up being) will be our last relocation.

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I am becoming mildly concerned about my own personal economy in the years leading up to retirement.

One, of course, is simply the cost of everything right now.  In a short sentence, it is definitely noticeable and definitely impacting our bottom line - even more so now that we are changing our thinking to "very fixed income".  The Ravishing Mrs. TB is already combing through our lives and our budget to find places that we can economize more.

I am also having low level concerns about my work.

Frankly, it is not a great time for my company.  Sure,  in terms of our stock price, it is as high as it has ever been.  But there are subtle signs:  spending on a great many things has been completely halted or pushed to next year and we are already discussing year end ratings with some expectations of the bell curve for ratings (e.g. you have to have a certain percentage on the low end).  

It is the sort of subsonic rumblings that one feels rather than hears before the earthquake arrives.

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We are 5 weeks into our Curling Season.  

Our "Record" is 1-4 (although they do not really keep league standings).  We have managed to at least score every game, which is nice - although to be fair, most games are what would be considered "blowouts" in terms of score (to the point the opposing team stops keeping track).

That said, we continue to improve slowly.  

Curling is a subtle sport which involves the ice, the stone, how one launches off the hack (the small rubber starting block) and the sweeping.  There are as many variables as any outdoor sport.

One of the nice things we heard this last week was from one of our "coaches" from our introduction class in March who said we are showing a lot of improvement.  I do not know that I believe it - but we will be back out on the ice next Monday to try again.

Passing Of An Era

 This past weekend we attended the funeral for my Aunt Pat, who passed away in April.

It was a nice service:  small and pretty straightforward,  each of her children reading something.  There was a short eulogy, Communion, and a dinner afterwards.  We were done and packed up within 3.5 hours of the start.

The interesting thing to me was not so much the service itself but what it presaged in terms of the future of family gatherings.

My mother's brother is the sole surviving member and/or spouse on my mother's side of the family.  He (and I, I suppose) have second cousins that are not far away from the state of Old Home, at least two that I can think of.  They were absent.

Of my aunt and uncle's family, all three of their children were there and the two grandchildren.  Our other cousin and his family were away (they often are; a combination of an age difference and a difference phase in life makes this a reality).

Of our family, my sister and The Outdoorsman were there, as were my nephew and his wife and The Outdoorsman's sister.  The Ravishing Mrs. TB was there, as was Nighean Bhan and The Fiancé.  My mother in law and sister in law were there.  Absent on our side was The Brit and his wife my niece, Nigheane Gheal, and Nighean Dhonn.

It suddenly hit me that this was how things were likely to be in the future.

This always happens of course - or I suppose at least happens in the modern era. Family moves away and becomes involved in their own lives.  It costs a fair amount to travel anymore, so anyone who is likely not close or very directly related may not be able to come.

And so, the ties of family slip away slowly, to be replaced by photos and texts on The Computers In Our Pockets and occasional calls.  Perchance a big event may present itself upon occasion - a funeral or perhaps a wedding - but even those are few and far between.

I should be fair though:  I, too, have not been around, at  like I used to be.  After April and the sale of The Ranch, this was my first trip back to Old Home.  And at least on the calendar, it will be my last trip back for awhile.  Part of that is simply that going now is much more of a production - I will need a pick-up (as I always did), but I will need a place to stay as well for the weekend.  Day trips are possible, but long (and they cost just as much as a weekend trip).  

I, too, am in some measure drifting away.

Perhaps this is just the way of the world now.  But it leaves me with a sadness in my heart as I watch the wisps of memory and interaction drift apart like the leaves falling outside my window in the cold October wind - because I know that, unlike the leaves, these things will not return.

A Year Of Haiku (XL): Stepwise

 

Beneath the split bark,

Fungal steps slowly ascend:

Decay and rebirth

2025 Cambodia And Vietnam: Coconut Island

 After cruising on and across the Mekong River, we disembarked at an island.  Our guide referred to it as "Coconut Island"; I am sure it has a real name but for the purposes of the trip, Coconut Island it will be.

Concrete paths served as small streets and bike lanes:

A jackfruit:

Multiple jackfruits on their way to market:

A grave:

Coconuts!

2025 Cambodia And Vietnam: Mekong River (I)

The Mekong River, which terminates in Vietnam, is the world's twelfth longest river by length, passing through China, Myanmar, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam.  It length is estimated at 3,090 miles/4,909 km.  Annually, it discharges 114 cubic miles/475 cubic meters of water (For comparison, that is the volume of Lake Erie).

We took a bus ride to the transit location.  The small white structure you see in the field is a tomb; traditionally farmers were buried by (or on) their fields:

I do not think one of these was our ship, but similar enough:

What is a tropical cruise without fresh coconut?

Technically we are edging into (or in) The Mekong Delta Region.  There were a series of small islands as we set out farther into the river.

As you might imagine, the Mekong River is a water highway for commerce:

Getting closer to an island, where we will disembark:

A Sense Of Magic

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We have lost our sense of magic.

At one time, the world was a magical place for. True, I had a pretty naïve view of the world in the form of a very sheltered life and engaging from an early age in reading the sort of books that involved very gentle forms of magic - Raggedy Ann and Andy, The Oz Books, sanitized classical mythology, gentle science fiction of Andre Norton, Tolkien's Middle Earth and Lewis' Narnia.  There was magic out there in the world, I thought, even if I could not see it.

In the same way, I had a rather naïve view of love.  Courtly romantic ideology was my model - to be honest with you, I cannot tell you fully where that came from other than reading these stories of heroes defeating evil and pure love, and later the stories of Edgar Rice Burroughs' Barsoom and Venus, great heroes doing great deeds to win the hearts of beautiful women.

The world scarcely works like that of course, and at some point those things began to fall, stripped away by the world and the evils of it and cynicism and in many cases, my own willingness to abandon innocence for a knowledge that I thought promised far more than it gave.

And yet, somewhere within me, those beliefs still manage to hold on.

To be fair, it means that I consciously choose to know or not learn about a great many things.  That could be called a form of willing ignorance.  I find that such a thing preserves my peace.

But even with this, the world still seems so cold and so devoid of mystery.  Part of that stems from the fact that we have stripped away the mystery consciously in search of knowledge and understanding.  Yes, we know the what and wherefores of why so many things happen, but we have lost that spark of mystery, of wonder that used to fill my childhood.

In some ways maybe I can recapture it.  And of those ways is simply make it for others.

How?  By sending along pictures of things I see on my walks or on my travels, of pictures like the one above that tell small stories.  By sharing a sense of wonder of the world with others.  Of see the good and mystery in daily life, and trying to help others to see it as well.

Likely I can never fully recapture that spirit of mystery and magic and wonder.  But I can choose to keep trying to find it every day.