Be Wise, Change Yourself

 

One of the changes in the last two months that has happened - almost imperceptibly, until it suddenly reached the point it could not longer be ignored - is that I have surrendered the idea of "changing the world", even in small portions.

It is a funny thought when it suddenly hits one:  the years spent brooding over the state of the world, perhaps some forays into making things "different" or "better" or that most elusive of items, "changing other people".  Years of grousing about how things are not going the right way and that if only - if only - the world was changed, it would be better.

And then - suddenly - it disappears.

Can one change the world by changing one's self?  Certainly.  Many people have done it:

But change by personal example takes a great deal more time than change by brute force or "movements".  And it is not nearly as rewarding in that the progress I see will often see glacially slow, or not even happen.

But that, ultimately, is not really the point.

Stoicism would tell us that the only things we can control - and thus we can change - are ourselves, our actions, and our reactions.  Christianity teaches that salvation is a personal matter: we cannot be saved on behalf of anyone, it has to be for ourselves alone.

Changing ourselves is an exploration that literally has no frontiers or boundaries.  We can always be working - every second of the day if we desire (although that might be exhausting) on making some aspect of ourselves different, and (presumably) better.  There are no laws, no restrictions, no "things that have to happen" for us to start.  Today.  At this moment.

Ultimately in the course of time, it is the wise ones that are remembered and revered far more than the clever ones.  Let us then seek to be wise and make the change that we can always guarantee will be accomplished.

Let us change ourselves.

Technical Difficulties: An Administrative Update

 All - I thought I would take a moment and update on my "technical difficulties"; specifically related to the inability to directly embed comments.

After doing some reading and experimentation, I think the problem is most specifically related to the interface between Brave and Blogger, specifically the "Shields Up" function of Brave that prevents tracking.  When I put "Shields Down", I can embed comments just fine.

After looking at the functionality and some of the blogger, settings, I realized that "Cross Site Cookies Blocking" - which seems to root of the issue - is engaged, which is what everyone online seems to say is the issue.  

So after a week of the pop-up screen, I have found that I really struggle with it as an interface.  I enjoy the actually flow of the conversation as it makes it easier in my mind.  So this is how I am doing it (if anyone is interested).  For background when I write this, I am also on a VPN (NordVPN) and use Ghostery to block trackers.

1) Go to Blogger (or the Blogger Site I am interested in).

2)  Turn Shields "Off".

3)  Do my commenting and hit "enter" for comment to register.

4)  Turn Shields "On" or even close out of Brave and then reopen.

It is a little clunky of a interface, but seems to be working okay.

I would be interested in feedback if the change back to embedded comments is working for everyone - or note - and any other potential "fixes".  

As always, thanks for the time spent here and your patience as I work through this.

Feeling Powerless And The Reaction After

 One of the things that is coming to the fore, between trying to think more and read more Stoicism and meditate more on God, is the need to be ruthlessly honest with one's self.  There cannot be the willingness to avert one's eyes from the weak points of one's character and personality.  To use a martial arts analogy I am familiar with, one has to persevere to have the inner self match the mirror-like sheen of the polished blade.

With that in mind, I was brought up short this week when I consciously realized that I combat feelings of powerlessness with bad habits and sin.

It absolutely follows like clockwork:  I am in a situation or in a meeting or receive an e-mail which somehow makes me feel as if I have no power, whether to impact the situation or turn down the request or simply to somehow "fight back" against the perceived infringement.  And right after that, my instincts will kick in and I will do any number of things which are not great: overeat or another bad habit or simply become angry and irritated and lose focus for hours on end.

The reason I do it is pretty straightforward to me: being made to feel powerless, I lash out by doing something that is within my power to do. The better question is why do I think that this somehow improves the situation?

Because it never does, really. Then I get to feel bad about two things:  the initial incident where I felt powerless and then whatever I did afterwards to avert the feeling of powerlessness.  What I need is to come up with a more effective way to deal with it.

I would like to say that it is simply a matter of me being able to calmly and rationally think through the situation, realize what is happening, admit that I am feeling that way, and then turn my attention to something that I can control that is healthy and do that.  I say that.  It sounds very intellectual and thoughtful, and not at all how I deal with these things in the heat of the moment.

So perhaps in desperation I will throw the question to the wider audience:  What do you do when you feel that you are powerless in a situation and are looking for a positive alternative instead of dwelling on the situation or what you cannot do?

Going (Job) Hunting: An Update

 As readers may recall, last month I made the perhaps belated realization that the time is now to start reconsidering the job market and more precisely, my own place in it.  I have made a little progress, which I though I might share in the spirit of how often I write about such things as one time events instead of the processes they actually are.

I made efforts and in fact got  Linked Out account set up (which is pretty much how everyone starts their job search these days, even old dogs like myself if for no other reason that it helps us to get in contact with our former coworkers).  I worked on getting the resume updated, which is both a marvel and terror to me as I have reached the point in the employment program where even the "redacted" form of my resume is three pages.  And then, on a whim, I started looking at available jobs and salaries.

I have learned two things:

1)  I am unable to secure a job at my current salary.

2)  It literally makes more sense for me to be laid off.

Taking them in turn.

1)  I am unable to secure a job at my current salary:  As those who have followed this blog for some time might recall, prior to my change of careers (documented in March/April 2020 as A Sort Of Hammerfall) I had effectively reached the "top" of my career field - there was literally nowhere else for me to go not just at my current company, but at any company.  And rather generously, my company had matched those promotions with salary.  And very thankfully, the salary that went along with job did not change when I was "repurposed".

I am very grateful for that.  Over that time, that salary enabled a lot of things,  like paying for college for two children and allowing us to get out of debt.  What it also managed to do is lock me into something that - as I found out - I cannot recreate (at least in this field) as long as I am in it.

What kind of change?  To change right now in the market (just eyeballing available positions) would be a significant cut in salary. It would still represent a good salary in today's economy and still way above what I have made for most of my life - excluding inflation of course, which is a force to be counted on more and more these days.  But it would be a significant change (and there is still one child for college consideration).  

Which leads us to

2)  It literally makes more sense for me to wait it out.

Given that sort of change, I really cannot in good conscience (and without being forced) suggest that somehow switching jobs right now is the best thing.  Not even a kind of good thing, except of course for that elusive sort of "less stress" that we all like to pretend will happen when we change jobs (and never does).  And that does not even address the fact that currently, I am able to travel to see my parents and The Ranch once a month with no issues (more of the jobs I saw listed "on site", which is not particularly welcome given my current situation).

Which leads then to:

3)  What to do instead

Given the fact that staying makes more financial sense than going, what can I/we do instead?  A couple of things have come to mind and are being implemented.

a)  Live As If:  In this budgeting scenario, the budget is redrawn as if there the salary change has already occurred.  All the variance gets put into savings.  We have already started this process. The nice thing about it is that we can modify with varying scenarios now without creating the sort of stress that comes when it become reality.

b) Be Ready:  Even though it makes sense to stay, there is no reason not have the figurative parachute packed and ready for when it does happen.  In my case this looks a lot like continuing to build those Linked Out connections, getting the resume in order, getting whatever additional knowledge I need in terms of certification or industry knowledge.  All of this can literally go on in the background and for the most part, is free.

c)  Find Other Funding:  This can look like a lot of things.  It can be a side hustle of some kind, or even a form of second job.  It can even be working through selling things that I no longer need and am likely not use again in my lifetime.  All of this could go into "The Gap Fund", or simply into my own secret stash for the things I still want to do (and cost money).

The reality, of course, is that none of this may come to pass. This may simply be a season (in my industry, such seasons are not unknown) and six months from now all will be well and that money we reallocated is a better nest egg than what we originally had.  

But either way, we planned for failure - and thus, we planned for success.

A Last Drive

 As I was reflecting on the weekend which include The Social Outing, I realized that we had passed one of those milestones of last things that will likely never come again.  In this case, the family vacation drive.

The location of the Social Outing was 1.5 hours from where we were staying and so - ever mindful of the "early is on time and on time is late" - we left, mostly in order to avoid traffic which never seemed to materialized.  Which was fine, as it turned out to be a beautiful spring day of green and wildflowers.

The drive - winding up through greenery and fields and small towns - is one I have not made in many years.  Na Clann have probably made it at least once, although I am sure that none of them recall it at this point as it has been too many years.  We drove through the small villages, replete with weekend travelers at boutique stores and restaurants I can likely not afford.  We stopped a upscale grocery store we used to stop at which had closed, only to find it had opened again under another name. This was something they very all much did remember, as we would always stop there for dipped cookies when we were in the area.

It was in the last town before our destination, when we were recklessly spending time while meandering through the streets as we were very early, that I suddenly realized that quite likely, this was the last time this would happen.

Nighean Gheal (the oldest) is in the process of finding out when her actual start-date is for her post-college "career-type" job, which will certainly be no later than October.  There is a tiny chance she will stay in the area, but more likely she will be off to A Big City.  Nighean Bhan (the middlest) will finish college this December and start working while she applies to graduate school; between work, graduate school and The Boyfriend (who, after dating for 3 years, may finally have to get a name here) her ability or "desire" to get away will be limited, even if she lives at home during that time (which seems the plan).  Nighean Dhonn (the youngest) is a year away from college and has made it fairly clear that once she goes, coming back will be limited to Summer and Christmas (if that).  

The plans for this Summer are already in place and their lives (and ours, to be fair) are planned out.  Thus, this drive through old houses and greenery might very well be the last that we would take together in this sort of form.

It is a sobering thing when the thought hits you.  For a moment one tries to drink it all in.  One is almost tempted to say something but somehow that will spoil the spontaneity and mood which is present at that moment.  It becomes like the wildflower that blooms for a short period:  to do anything else other than just appreciate it - to pick it or press it - is in some meaningful way to mar its beauty, even if for a short moment it appears the same.

And so I allowed the moment to be, listening to the discussion of music and pricing of homes and the sorts of trivia that seem to fill the moments that are meaningful when we do not realize that they are.

I am sure that there will be other, different moments to come that will be equally as good.  That is something I have had to learn by the hard experience of trying to crystalize the moments that have gone on before.  But they will be different in pesonae dramatae even if most of the characters remain the same.  But they will never be this moment - this fleeting, ephemeral moment at the end of one era and the start of another.

The trees shook their leaves gently as we drove by.  It was likely the breeze to most people; I know otherwise.

Do Something Desperate

 "Man, do something desperate, as the expression goes, now if never before, to achieve peace, freedom, and high-mindedness.  Lift up your neck at last like a man escaped from bondage, be bold to look towards God and say 'Use me henceforth for whatever Thou wilt; I am of the same mind with Thee; I am Thine; I crave exemption from nothing that seems good in Thy sight; where Thou wilt, lead me; in what raiment Thou wilt, clothe me.  Wouldst Thou have me to hold office, or remain in private life to remain here or go into exile; to be poor or be rich?  I will defend all these Thy acts before men; I will show what the true nature of each thing is."

- Epictetus,  The Dicourses (Book II)

A Visit With TB The Elder and Mom: Late April Edition

 I have been somewhat remiss in relating April's visit with TB The Elder and Mom.

For the first visit, it was myself and my oldest, Nighean Gheal, who had come out early with me prior to the Social Outing.  It was the best visit we have had in a long time, and maybe ever to this date.

TB The Elder definitely (from everything I could see) knew who Nighean Gheal was: his eyes lighted up, he was able to speak some sentences that were clear and understandable.  He was very engaged in our 30 minute visit.  He even showed some interest when I told him what the cost of gas was in New Home, which is a subject we always used to discuss every week on the phone.  Mom, was a little more quiet than usual and - as seems more usual lately - had to be reminded who we were in relation to her, but still was engaged.

We saw them about a week later, all of us:  Myself, The Ravishing Mrs. TB, Nigheah Gheal, Nighean Bhan, and Nighean Dhonn.  My mom was seemingly more responsive while TB The Elder was not (although his nights and the restlessness thereof seem to have a lot to do with it).  That said, we still talked through everything that was going on in the Nigheanan's lives and even The Ravishing Mrs. TB (they all do amazing and interesting things; I am pretty bland).  For everyone except Nighean Gheal, it had been almost a year since they had seen them.

My father's health seems to be declining more visibly:  for the first visit he was in a wheelchair (not the first time that has occurred during our visits) and for the second visit - although they were able to help him out walking to sit in the chair - it took two nursing assistants and even then he looked very strained and unsteady.  This was not the case even six months ago.  My mother seems about the same as she was when we moved her a little over a year ago, except the memory holes are larger and larger.

There is not much else we can do at this point, other than continue to visit and support.  Part of me hates that this is the answer; there should be a better response than that.  That said, I also have to remind myself that there really are no better options and the only thing we can do is visit and attempt to manage their legacy as they would have wanted it managed.

Which is not a really satisfying answer, but seems to be all that is readily at hand.

Connecting Five Dots And More Reading

 As I sitting in my chair journaling yesterday morning with my now additional morning time, I suddenly made a connection I had not made previously - perhaps an epiphany (although I wonder how many times we use that word for things that are simply not epiphanies, but just common sense).

There have been five sorts of "dots" over the last two weeks or so.  The first was waking up one morning and simply realizing that "I was done", although I was not clear what I was "done" with.  The second was the social outing that left me exhausted to the point that I seriously question how many I have left in me.  The third was the aforementioned change in morning programming that left my cell phone to the side for the first hour or so of the morning.  The fourth was a change in how comments are done, which makes my own commenting much more slow on the InterWeb and thus makes it less easy to use.  And the fifth - yesterday - was the announced blogging retirement of one of my favorite bloggers.

All of this came to a proverbial head when - on Thursday evening - I found myself finishing work at the actual time I was supposed to and suddenly having an evening with a few activities and a lot of time.  And suddenly I realized I was making a change in my life, a change I needed to make and had not essentially being willing to do. I needed to spend more time and focus on the quiet life that I say I want to live, but never really do.

In other words, I need to simply give myself permission to spend my life on a small subset of things that really matter.

Maybe this has been obvious to those that read here; it would not be the first time that the last person to realize issues about myself is me.  But what I found as I mulled these five points over in my journal - which thanks to the addition in morning time, I am forcing myself to double what I was writing (two pages instead of one) - is that I have fallen into a trap of needing to be mentally busy and serving masters that really had no impact on my life.

One of the things that has almost become a guilty pleasure is reading.  Why this is, I am not sure -except that somehow (except for flying on a plane) I have come to associate "sitting and reading" with not be productive.  Which is foolish of course - for the gaining of knowledge and for pleasure, there is nothing that beats reading (yes, I understand there are videos and such.  They never quite work the same way for me).  Reading has not been a priority, the way that it used to be or should be.

Which comes to how I spend my time.  Things like surfing the InterWeb become much less easy when your commenting interface is difficult and the bloggers you read (over to the right there, and whom I love) generally write a post once a day to once a week. That certainly does not justify hours of "looking", and the decision to largely discontinue media makes it even less real.

And the experience of the social outing?  I need more quiet and less people, not the other way around.  Excluding my family, Iaijutsu class, and volunteering at the Rabbit Shelter, I really only see people I have have no relationship with at the gym (and largely church at this point as well). 90% of my day is spent at home (whether here or at The Ranch) at most in meetings - so voice, not presence.  

Which, as I am finding, is how I like it.

In that sense I suppose, I need to double down on the life called Contemplative by the medieval mystics:  Less people, more thoughtfulness, more time spent with things around the home(s), more time invested in the things in my life that matter.  Perhaps doing "less", but more focused on what I am doing and in a real way, less connected to the world.

It does not impact my writing here directly (blogging continues to fall under one of the "things), as the unspoken sixth thing I realized is that I am already doing what I talk about in terms of blogging - much less current events and such, more more (hopefully ) thought provoking items and records of my daily life.  Which I am certainly happy with as it is continuing to help me refine my thoughts and my life.

In one thing I can say there is a sense of joy:  the moment when one realizes that so much of what one felt one was under was really put their by one's self, not by anyone else.

And, of course, the realization that one has given one's self the permission to read full speed ahead.

Ave Atque Vale, Claire

One of the saddest things that can happen in the world of blogging is when a good blogger goes silent.

It happens for any number of reasons of course.  For some, the desire or need to write simply runs out - like so many things in life, a thing can have a force and meaning which over time disappears and is no longer a force.  For some, just the burden of continuing to come up with something to write on a regular or semi regular basis can be overwhelming - after all, 99.9% of us do this for no other good reason than a love of words and on the whole, love does not pay particularly well.  For the saddest of cases of all, the blogger does not get to make the choice but the choice is made for them (Requiscat In Pace, Ol' Remus of The Woodpile Report).

It was thus with a great deal of sadness this morning that I read that Claire Wolfe has elected  (for all intents and purposes) to discontinue her blog.

I know that she is not everyone's cup of tea (to be fair, at one point in my life I would not have considered her so either), but she is (using the present tense; she is not "expired") someone whose writing I enjoy reading simply for the fact that - agree or disagree - it is well written and made me think, to the point that I actually read books she recommend which in turn modified my thinking.  She became for me like Ol' Remus of the blessed memory above, or a cadre of bloggers that still write and whom I look forward to reading with relish (the list I look forward reading looks a lot like that list over there to the right) whenever I saw they had a new post as I curled up with my cup of coffee in the morning.

Her reasons for leaving are manifold:  partially just that the drive to write of insanity in a world which is every day seemingly trying to outdo itself in said insanity has disappeared, partially because it simply costs money to operate a server in a time of increasing expenses  and she prefers to allocate resources elsewhere, and (the most happiest part for me at least) partially that she has found good things in her life that she would much prefer to spend time on than continuing to dwell on the more disagreeable things of the modern world (which, to be fair, we all would).

Over the years here as I have written, I have found myself transitioning to a different kind of writing which is different in its genesis (for me, I really just do not like unpleasantness and conflict in the comments section) but ultimately the same in outcome:  I have chosen to write about different areas other than current events and the general insanity not so much because it is not there (it is), but that my writings provide very little in the way of actual solutions to such problems - they become more  a simple grousing about the way things are.  That helps no-one ultimately:  not me, not my readers, and not the situation in general.  I would rather write about things that either provoke my thoughts or that I simply enjoy; the potential that they have an impact to fix any current issues is an accidental by-product, not the intent.  And so when someone else makes the realization that the time has come to spend their life on happier things, I can only raise the proverbial glass and shout "Huzzah".

I am selfishly sad of course, the sort of selfishness that comes when a beloved local store or restaurant closes because the owner has decided to retire or simply move on:  glad for them and sad for myself that I will no longer have the experience of shopping or eating there.  At the same time, we are remiss if we do not in our selfish sadness take the opportunity to be grateful to the spot that they filled in our lives during that time.  Our sorrow is most likely not so much from the inconvenience of not having access as it is to the fact that something we enjoyed will no longer be a part of our lives in the same way:  not an active participant, but a happy memory.

I struggled with how to name this post; after all "Goodbye" or "A Requiem for" has the sort of finality that suggests something other than what Claire has decided to do, simply step into another place in life.  As I pondered, the phrase from the Roman Poet Catullus "Ave atque Vale" - "Hail and Farewell" suggested itself.  I post the translation of the poem here for completeness:

Carried through many nations and over many seas,
I arrive, brother, for these wretched funeral rites
so that I might present you with the last tribute of death
and speak in vain to silent ash,
since Fortune has carried you, yourself, away from me.
Alas, poor brother, unfairly taken away from me,
now in the meantime, nevertheless, these things which in the ancient custom of ancestors
are handed over as a sad tribute to the rites,
receive, dripping much with brotherly weeping.
And forever, brother, hail and farewell. (Source)

Ave atque Vale, Claire.  

Technical Difficulties - Please Stand By

 So I have to apologize for the rather awkward commenting of late.  Apparently Google in their infinite wisdom "fixed" a problem that never existed and as a result, I cannot comment my own blog (or others).  I It frustrates me to no end.

I have tried the recommended suggestion of clearing out my "cookies", but only seem to have managed to lock myself out of my browser (Brave) access to my blog to the point I may have de-install and re-install the browser.  At the moment I am going through an incognito window with "Shields" down; I will post them back up and then close the window. 

(I also tried on Microsoft Edge with no better results - which actually made me feel a bit better.  Trying to avoid the conglomerates.)

For the interim I have put commenting in a pop-out window to at least allow people to comment.  I do not like the fact one cannot "reply", but that seems to be my only option.

My sincere apologies for the inconvenience and thanks for your patience as I try to work through this.

A Slight Change In Morning Programming

 One of the rather poor habits that I have picked up about my early morning routines is that I have become largely dependent on my "Smartphone" to make it happen.

It started innocently enough of course:  I had an app that I used in the morning as part of my routine.  So I started reaching for it there.  The next thing I found, I had added another app.  Then I started checking my mail.  Then I started just "looking" at the blog in the morning, and one or two other things.  The next thing I knew, I found that I was picking up the phone right after the Bible and prayer and not putting it down for 30-40 minutes.

All of that is fine, of course, except what I found is that it was becoming a crutch for putting off the work I really needed to be doing:  Journaling.  Thinking carefully about what I was going to write for this blog.  Exercise.  That sort of thing.

Which I had sort of learned to live with and work around (not well) - until last week one of the rather ubiquitous "X ways to improve your life"  floated across Instaphoto.  The first suggestion:  Dump your smartphone for the first 60 minutes of your day.  

Well, hello perfectly good idea that I had started with and then given up on because I was, well, "Trying to get more done".  Which sounds a lot like lazy.

So this week I have started doing it.  Perhaps somewhat (not) surprisingly, I am already finding my focus more clear and my writing a little less awful.  And also, I suddenly seem to have an addition of time that I was not previously aware of.

Not that the time somehow magically reappeared.  It was always there. It was how I was choosing to use the time that made it less available.  And not that this things were complete time wasters - it was just that they were of less value than other things.

There is a point - and one that is somehow just slightly buried here that I have to try and understand it - that just because something is a little bit easier to perform and is perhaps even somewhat worthy of being pursued, it is not necessarily the best and highest use of our time.  

And sometimes, it is as simple as just putting something aside for a little while.

Aftermath Of A Social Outing

 This past weekend I had occasion to attend a large social event.  I was in this particular case happy to do so, although as it was family related there was some sense of obligation as well.  And there was indeed an element of fun had at it.

But the aftermath on me is such that I do not think I have many more such events in me.

To be fair, it was an event that - generally - catered to a slightly younger group. It is also fair to say that I was on the tail end of a week of less than ideal sleep and there was bit more alcohol in my system than has been there in a while.

But even now, two days later, I still feel completely wiped out by it.

It is not just the physical side. I (in theory) know that I will be able to rest up and have my body recover from a few days of not eating well and no exercising as I usually do.  But it is the mental condition that has me the most bothered.  Literally, it feels like I am trying to lift a huge weight to get into gear.  It is as if all of my mental reserve and thought processes have been totally washed away, leaving me nothing but a blank slate.

I do not like it.  I do not even know how to process it, other than writing about it.  At best, I am hopeful that with a week of limited activities and the silence of home, I might reach a place where I can begin to re-sort things out again.

Some important lessons here for me.  

By my back of the envelope calculations, I have maybe six to eight of these events left in my lifetime (maybe a few more - who knows).  They will be the sorts of things I will need to attend.  So I need to do a better job of preparing for them.

I had also not anticipated how impactful the last two years of really doing no social events had been on me.  This was likely the largest and certainly the loudest event I have been two since the start of The Plague, if not even before that.   I have realized I have become more of a creature of the silence and the quiet; how much, I did not know.  

And how essentially critical it is to my ability to function.

At this rate, I estimate a week at least until I am back to where I was last Wednesday after having spent time at The Ranch.  Which seems like a lot of recovery time for a single event.

Somewhat graciously by the hand of God, it is raining now.  The patter of the drops soothes my soul.

When I Let Go

 

Leaves And Needles

 

Farmer's Lament

Why do these barns stand empty,
On this old family farm,
And when did farming smaller holdings,
Actually do the country harm,

He was happy with his hundred ewes,
Few horses, hens and sows,
And never really saw the need,
To milk more than thirty cows,

Most of what they ate, he grew,
As DEFRA looks to blame,
He didn’t need the plastic tags,
He knew his stock by name,

But he finds himself retiring,
Because his joints are stiff with age,
His sons moved to the city,
Where they pay a proper wage,

So he’s in the hands of agents,
And their joy is plain to see,
Not a thought about his lifetimes work,
Just a big fat sellers fee,

They split the farm up into lots,
Such is their endeavour,
Without the sickening realisation,
Another farm is lost forever,

When the farmhouse sells at auction,
Should he really mind?
When it’s bought by the very people,
Who have robbed his pension blind?

Its sold with tiny paddocks,
Because they’d like to keep a horse,
But they love the look of foxes,
So they’ll never hunt, of course,

They won’t like crowing cockerels,
Or the smell of muck being spread,
The winter sound of gunfire,
Or the thought of game shot dead,

These barns have stood a century,
Will soon be filled with glass and steel,
Developers will leave some beams in,
So it has that country feel,

All the strangers move in slowly,
And all the country skills are lost,
Do we think just about the value?
But ignore the long term cost,

He sells the farm and wonders,
What all his works been for,
And how will these new folks manage,
If there comes another war,

When Sainsburys shelves are empty,
There’s no wheat or livestock reared,
They will look for farms and farmers,
To find that both have disappeared.

- Neil Andrew

On Silence

The wind is blowing fiercely this morning.

It makes a nice counterpoint to the rain that was falling earlier this morning, which seems to have disappeared at the moment.  The outside is becoming dimly grey as the sun begins its journey behind the clouds, a dim pervasive light that slowly raises the gloom inside.

The wind blows through the fireplace.  I can hear it as it fuels the draught that burns the wood inside and drives the fireplace fan on top of the firebox, which quietly clicks away as it blows heat into the room.

I do not suppose I need the heat at this level - it is already warm enough in here.  But the sound and color bring me a certain joy and it costs me nothing, so I let it burn and add another log to the fire.

There is a certain simplicity in all of this - were I to pull down my laptop, I would sit in the ever lessening gloom.  With exception of the airliners that occasionally fly overhead, things are largely silent and even possibly as they were a hundred years ago.

I have written before - and often - of the silence that I find here.  Not the silence of the absence of sound - there is never that in the real world - as much as the silence of the modern world:  the cars, industrial noises, random noises of civilization, and even people.

I am prone it is as well, perhaps more often than I care to admit.  I will often fill the silence at New Home with noise - not so much to fill the nothing with something as to drown out the other noises that are going on around me.  An instinctive reaction perhaps; a right reaction, not at all.

Silence seems to make us uncomfortable.  Perhaps it should:  silence forces us in upon ourselves in a way that a world of sound does not.  We have nothing else to interrupt us, so we are forced back to an internal conversation and review, something which can often be uncomfortable.

"The unexamined life is not worth living."  This is credited to Socrates via Plato and has made its way into the common lexicon of motivational speeches, motivational posters, and memes.  But do we really believe it?  We smile grimly as we hear or see these words, agreeing internally that we need to rigorously examine ourselves.  

But only on our terms:  when it is convenient, when it is not burdensome, when we have the time.

Silence distorts this.  Silence is now, silence is inescapable.  Silence makes us examine ourselves simply because we have nowhere else to turn in the silence but inward.  All the great contemplative traditions recognize silence as a critical factor to growth and self-understanding.  They inherently know something that the modern world does not:  silence increase self examination and knowledge while the constant filling of our lives with meaningless sounds decreases it, leaving us in a bemused state, unable to focus on that which is truly critical.

Outside, the first bird of the morning has started sounding.

Green, Blue, Brown, White

These are why the rains are so important.  This is much more how it should appear.

 

A Rainy Day

 It is a Day of Rain.

Rain is not unknown this late in the year at The Ranch - even as it is not expected every year at The Ranch.  Some years it happens, some years it does not.  It is just called "climate" and is the natural way of things (last year, for example, there was little rain in April.  Years before, there have been "Miracle Marchs").

The rain here is the rain of my childhood, days of rain that comes misting or dropping down over the course of hours - perhaps interrupted for periods only to return for a period before it drifts off at it makes its way to some other location. Like New Home, there can be short bursts of intense rain; unlike New Home, the sun will like not make a reappearance after that day.

When rains, it is inevitably cold.  There is none of the "warm rain" nonsense that we found such a surprise when we relocated to New Home.  Even the very occasional thunderstorm that we receive in Summer will have a hint of coolness about it.

I have always been a lover of Winter and Rain as my most favorite of seasons - not for the cold, of course - of that I am not a fan.  I cannot fully tell you why.  Part of it is just the spectacle of sitting at a window and watching the rain fall and dance across the landscape - when I was growing up, I would watch it out the larger window in my bedroom across the neighbors field and over to their house, watching it down the leaves and tree-trunks and bend the grasses with the weight of the drops.  True as well, as a reader growing up (and still as a reader) rain always indicates the justifiable ability to read as "not a lot can be done in the wet" (it can, of course, and I am only really making excuses for myself, but it is at least a factor).

And the Rain is an audible companion - unlike the wind which creaks the branches and trees, rain moderates its patter on the roof or gurgles as it makes its way down the gutter and drain pipe into the places it goes.  It is a pleasant and cheerful sort of sound, and makes a delightful counterpoint to interior activities (like, for example, reading).

I suppose in the back of my mind as well, I give thanks for the Rain as it falls.  Not one place I have ever lived has ever suffered from too much rain (on a regular basis anyway), and I am all too aware of the impact this rain will have here.  Badly parched earth will be reborn with moisture and grasses and wildflowers; the frogs and turtles rejoice and the polliwogs unknowingly celebrate the fact that their "world" will exist until they can scramble away;  some portion of the trees that were possibly on the edge from the heat and drought last year will get the boost they need to continue on.  The cattle at The Ranch may very well feed on green forage until June, which is often the case.

It makes me wonder how modern Western civilization is enamored of the appearance and reappearance of the Sun and heat - important times indeed, those - and does not have the same celebration of Rain and the cold.  For us in our modern world, the Sun represents the ability to go out and do things and entertain ourselves while Rain represents the cold and wet and lack of activities.  We do ourselves a disservice in this, I think, perhaps because now we are too far removed from the earth and world that supports us.  We have come to view the elements as things that are enablers of our entertainment, not our very lives.  And we are indeed the poorer for that.

The Rain, caring neither for the rise and fall of civilizations or my quaint enjoyment of it, continues to fall.

Rain, Home, Spring

 It is good to be home.

It is funny to say "home", because absolutely none of my actual "home" is here.  My wife and children are not here.  The menagerie that makes our house right now is not here.  My regular activities - Iaijutsu, gym, rabbit shelter - are not here. Certainly all of my things - what constitutes (at this point) a specialized formidable library on specific subjects and my swords (and, I suppose, all the other paraphernalia that I actually need to live) is not here.

And yet this feels more like home each time I am here.

As it turns out after my concerns last month about the rain, they have had a regular intake of it almost since I left - even during my week here, we are scheduled for starting tomorrow through Thursday.  It is not the higher snow we will need, but this may very well keep us green into June (which is traditional) and will certainly help recharge the aquifer, which is all very welcome news.  Hopefully this year will be a "normal" fire year, not the explosive potential we have had for the last few.

Also, the grass is starting to grow (which it did not last year).  That means mowing, which The Cowboy and The Young Cowboy have offered to do.  To Ed's point yesterday, have people that are invested in the property as much as you are is a blessing.

It is still coolish enough for a fire (surprising to me a bit as New Home continues to smolder its way into Summer), which is a pleasant enough thing for me - and still remains novel enough that I enjoy doing it.  It certainly has the benefit of not only heat, but a silence that the furnace lacks.

It is odd - I think the thing that makes it feel the most like "home" is the fact that when I am here, the world seems full of possibilities - possibilities not all realizable of course (no-one can do all things), but possibilities.  It has sense of being in the fifth grade and set free for the Summer, aware enough that you can go out and do things on your own and cognizant of the fact that you have whole days to fill before you have to trudge back to school.    At New Home, there is much less of this sense:  the chessboard is set and filled and there are limitations - more, if I am sticking with the analogy, of a weekend away from school.  We enjoy the weekends as a break, but we enjoy the Summer more.

Then again, the green of Spring always encourages me in a way that still continues to surprise me after all these years.

A Prayer (And Place) For Uisdean Ruadh

As some may be aware, my long time friend Uisdean Ruadh and his mother,  A Mhaithar na hUsidean Ruadh, were both separately notified at the end of February that they needed to leave their apartments - for Uisdean Ruadh, 15 years and for his mother, over 40 years - by the end of May this year.  Many of you have been kindly praying for them during their search in a difficult market, for which he - and I - are thankful.

There is, as Paul Harvey would say, now a "Rest of the Story".

One of the features of The Ranch, not heretofore discussed, is The Cabin.

The Cabin is a very small (800 square feet? 900?) structure at The Ranch, about 100 yards down the hill from The House. It was originally (as the saying goes) a logging shed (called a donkey shed?) that was dragged from place to place following the loggers. Over the years a foundation was put under it, and slowly rooms were added onto it by family: My material grandfather and my mother's brother built at least one room, TB The Elder and my maternal grandfather built another.  Over time it has been modeled and remodeled and re-remodeled; when we first starting coming here regularly it was where we stayed (for some reason I remember this horrible shag carpet and an electric organ.; both have [perhaps fortuitously] disappeared).

It has never entered into the story until now because since the 1990's it has been a rental and, as a rental, was really other people's and not part of any story here.

Never once was it marketed.  People showed up by word of mouth or recommendation as others left; it scarcely went unoccupied for a long period of time (the Cowboy's son, The Young Cowboy, then The Young Cowboy and his wife and (then) son, and then his sister all passed through here, for example).  My father valued good tenants above good money and so charged less than he could have gotten if it was priced at market value. And there was never really a problem with the tenants:  all respected the unspoken trust implied by how my father handled things (never once was a lease signed; it was all done on a handshake) and except for one or two odd incidents, almost nothing needed to significantly repaired or replaced - in fact, some tenants actually made improvements themselves.

Four days after Uisdean Ruadh  and I talked about looking for an apartment for him and his mother, the current renters - who had told us they were staying until the end of Summer - let us know that due to circumstances they had to leave by the middle of April.  I talked with my sister, then called Uisdean Ruadh:  It was small -  maybe two-ish bedrooms and one bath, and had a pellet stove for heat - but it would at least be somewhere for him and his mother to stay until he was able to reorient their lives. It was certainly available if they needed it.  

Initially he thanked us profusely and said it was an option.  Then, two weeks later at a doctor's appointment, his mother's doctor expressed that he should consider Hospice for his mother.  At that point,  he simply said he was too overwhelmed with trying to deal with both things and did the offer still stand?

We walked through it yesterday.  He will start moving his things in this month.

I do not, as I hope my readers know, post this as a sort of "look at us" sort of self- congratulatory post. I would not bring it up at all except (as usual) I think there are some larger lessons that can be applied.

1)  The first, of course, is simply to thank everyone who prayed, had good thoughts, or sent good vibrations.  Thank you.

2)  The second is that for those that prayed, this is a demonstration that prayer - your prayers - worked.

3)  The third - the one that has made me the most self- aware - is that sometimes we are the answer to the prayers.

Eaton Rapids Joe had posted an comment about disaster relief donations and in it, noted that often times people use disasters as a way to give what they think people need instead of what they may actually need and in some cases, as a way to clear out "stuff".  Often times, the comment noted, cash really was the better option as the people on the ground knew what was actually needed.  And was a good and interesting insight from someone in the midst of relief.

However, I do not wonder that sometimes that trains us to believe that the only sort of aid we can or are really obligated to offer is that cash when sometimes, we have the ability to offer more.

I have to confess that when the previous renters notified us, the first thought was to see about refilling the Cabin with another renter paying the going rate as it really goes into my parents' account which we are stewarding, not owning.  But in Uisdean Ruadh's voice I heard an anguish, an anguish I had heard only twice before:  once when his father had passed, the other when his ex-wife filled for divorce.  The thought was about 10 seconds long before I talked to my sister.

In this case, good was in our ability to do.

I always find remarkable to realize that a prayer has been answered, whether something small or large.  What is even more remarkable is to realize that one was actually the answer to the prayer God had in mind all the time - at that in some unfathomable sense out of depths of time, God looked at a logging shed and found it would a far more profound impact than its own simple existence and preserved and expanded it and made it available precisely when a need was present.  All we needed to do was say "Yes".

Perhaps to be an answer to more prayers, we simply need to learn to say "Yes" to God more often.