Saturday, March 31, 2007
Mar. 31 2007 – responses
Hi Mark, life around here is anything BUT! I have been busy with family, work, job hunting, and party planning. And everyone in the world seems to be healthy but me! I have been fighting the same old bronchitis for more than a month. (Yes, chest x-rays confirm it is just bronchitis and not anything else.) The lingering cough is getting old..thankfully, the blood systems are still working properly; my next check-up is in June. Family is great, married life is as wonderful as ever..better every day, if that's possible. How does one measure that? Every day seems greater, higher, deeper than the one before until I feel like I could just burst from joy. We enjoy each other's company so much. It's truly a gift to be such good friends as well as partners. Delaney turned one last month and is walking and babbling like a pro. Mark calls her his "Little Orator". She has this weird hand gesture that accompanies most of her speech, which makes the listener think she actually knows what she's saying. I think both of us had better put our hands in our pockets when we talk to her. She's such a parrot...yesterday she said "Damn it" clear as a bell, after hearing Mark swear when he caught his foot on a chair. Time to clean up the potty talk, too. School is officially closing in June of this year and two of the four teachers there are continuing on at another site, maybe. I am not one of them. After nine years with the university, I am ready to move on and strike new paths. So...yesterday I found out I got a job as the venue manager for a new children's museum opening here in Orange County next year. It is an exciting opportunity to be a part of something being built from the ground up. Lots of funding from young philanthropists, sons and daughters of OC gazillionaires. Including the "heir" daughter to the Mars/M&M candy bar empire. Wow. All of a sudden I will need to be wearing office attire instead of overalls. That's about it. You're caught up! See, you haven't missed that much. Sorry it's been so long .. but I have always enjoyed being a little voyeuristic when it comes to your musings. Best, LR, Irvine
Saturday Mar. 31, 2007 - dusty dreamy day
[written and published from Calgary]
-1C/30F, cloudy, sun peeking through now; melt water along the lagoon edge making waves thanks to a stiff north wind; Gusta lunged for a lap dog the size of a loaf of bread – my left arm nearly ripped from its moorings; matted grass, debris and grime litter the landscape, traffic rushes by as though there is nothing to see
way up there, over here, under this, alongside that . . there is so much to see with our eyes wide open; but what do we see with them closed?
some days I am so content with my day to day life, some days I would like to scream like my day to day life was a straight-jacket from which I could not escape; I don’t have a plane ticket in hand so . . . I need to visualize
next weekend . . pondering where to go, what to see; Osoyoos beckons, so does prairie coolies; which makes me wonder how I will feel as seasons change, albeit more subtly, when I spend more time where palm trees meet an ocean . . . I need to visualize
last of the white stuff gone, these dreary late winter/early spring 'waiting time' days; waiting for warm rain to green us, waiting for shirt-sleeve weather, yearning for picnic-time; next weekend might be time for a country trip to see the results of calving season, the flow of streams under a big sky . . . I need to visualize
my life is full, my plate full, my belly full, my head full; my circle goes round, my sense of my environment incomplete, my desire to feel life pressing against me like a hot breeze in a stiff wind on Sugar Beach - searing, my desire to sleep peacefully knowing I will wake up every morning, to move on to the next . . .and the next
I've been experimenting a little - writing (thanks to 7th grade typing class) with my eyes closed (much editing required . . I'm rusty); I find this an interesting process . . real stream of consciousness stuff, trying to reach into my mind without distractions of surroundings, without influence of a view from my window or of pictures on walls, objects atop filing cabinets or carpet colour . . just enjoying the space around me, the sounds, the feel underfoot, the proximity of everything around me, no need to visualize, I am there
when I do this, my thoughts flow quickly . . they ricochet, as if my head was hollow, like little ping pong balls . . colliding with the walls of my memory cells; moments from childhood, moments of yesterday, of last month and back again; streaming . . steaming . . dreamy . . steamy, as if I can reach out and touch a day gone by, a day dreamed or one that I cherish; its up there on the big screen . . I am in a seat, munching popcorn, enjoying the view
I let my mind wander - almost like drifting off to sleep, I find it interesting in recent months that I have moved from worry, from wrestling with troubles to a mix of recalling thrilling moments, recalling risks taken, recalling exhilaration of so many things . . recollections of warmth, great company and adventuring, exploring . . curiously peeking around the corner more affected by adrenalin pumping than from fear of fright
a friend said ‘hey lets have dinner’ . . maybe . . but maybe not tonight; my mood needs examining today more than it needs entertainment; I need solitude today, I need my thoughts to keep me company, my thoughts and Gusta and some fresh halibut in the fridge . . that ought to do it
Mark Kolke
225,956
201.8
Friday, March 30, 2007
Mar. 30 2007 – responses
Good Beautiful Morning Mark, Fabulous Musing this morning....just wonderful! Mahalo!, Aloha~GR, Haiku, HI
Friday Mar. 30, 2007 - refusal to jump
[written and published from Calgary]
-2C/29F, calm as morning sun blazes through a cloudy horizon, another warm day predicted, Gusta seems substantially ‘over it’, content with a short walk this morning based on my promise of a monster walk later
are your affairs in order; what kind of statements do we make and how telling are they?
no . . not that kind!! . . I mean ‘the order of your life and what you want on your headstone’
yesterday was very productive; lunch with MW and fish shopping were high-lites; I journeyed up to Billingsgate . . fresh seafood is just sooooooooo….. good; scallops and shrimp for dinner last night . . yummy, sweet fruity dessert left-overs for my early breakfast; now draining the pot of its last cup of coffee at 7:40 . . means I have been working since 4;30 this morning . . time for taking a break now before getting on a morning meeting treadmill . .
I read 1 law a day; Chopra’s Seven Spiritual Laws of Success has been a treasure – I printed off the 7 and read 1 every morning; my ‘Friday’ reading deals with articulating our desires, articulating our talents that manifest themselves while fulfilling those desires – heady stuff once I got those desires and talents defined; he counsels us (me) to not let obstacles get in the way of my passions, the fulfillment of desires, the use of my talents; I am reminded of going to see horses jump; when they come to an obstacle and stop it is called a refusal
I think this is a great metaphor for what most of us (me too) do on occasion; we avoid doing something or postpone doing things (causing work days to start at 4:30) which are inconvenient, difficult (or so they seem when we are putting them aside) or scary – rather than confronting them, rather than finding ways – over/through/around – them; if they stand in the way of our deepest desires, we need to get over it
on the other hand, they are not . . . then they really are not obstacles at all . .they are just stuff; don’t let stuff get in your way - fulfill your desires, do only things that pursue your desires, that use your talents and which get you to where you are going; do nothing else . . NOTHING . . because otherwise you fill find yourself in a league with JB . . a very successful guy . .who says “I simply don’t have time for some of the pleasures in life”
NOTHING simple about that statement
My response to JB: I hope you change that . . and soon; it would be sad one day, on your tombstone if it said 'he did not have time for the pleasures in life', wouldn't it be better if it said 'he took time to not miss the pleasures in life'
I like: “he pursued passions, desires and goals – always had his affairs in order - ready to die any day, refusing to give up on life, refusing to give up on the belief all his desires satisfied ”
we all get to choose whether to know our obstacles are really obstacles, we all need to recognize when we're refusing to jump
Mark Kolke
225,956
202.4
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Mar. 29 2007 – responses
Thanks for the musings, they are interesting and well written. However, my time is challenged as of late and I simply don’t have time for some of the pleasures in life. Therefore please remove me from your list for these mailings, JB, Calgary
Mar. 29 2007 – responses
Thanks for the musings, they are interesting and well written. However, my time is challenged as of late and I simply don’t have time for some of the pleasures in life. Therefore please remove me from your list for these mailings, JB, Calgary
Thursday Mar. 29, 2007 - try it
[written and published from Calgary]
-3C/27F, clear and warming . . a gorgeous day ahead; Gusta still in heat, seeking tall handsome strangers . . to no avail, owner sighs happily; traffic hums, heavy equipment rumbles in the next subdivision cell as spring excavations for shallow services get under way
nice to hear from CB yesterday; she replied to musings on her blackberry from Little Beach in Maui (how do you carry one of those there?) – so nice to know you’ve been able to get some much needed ‘let your hair down’ time ; you are in the right place for that . .
lately I’ve been thinking about that choices I make, the timing of choices; realizing my sense of timing is getting better (its about time!); I grew up learning that choices were yes/no, on/off, good/bad sorts of things; in my late twenties I was taking a course where the concept of ‘don’t make a decision’ was made clear to me; the notion that one of the most appropriate options was ‘not to make a decision right now’; perhaps I was late learning it, but it has benefited me lots in any case
is it all about risk/reward, forward/back?
I think solving . . meeting these challenges is more about choice/consequences, about drive/desire
I think achievement goes beyond those elements; I think high achievement comes to those who meet the challenges, solve the problems . . with added ingredients that zealously pursue noble goals and . . . . which are about quenching thirst, about aiming high, about doing good, about spending ourselves to exhaustion, to the edges of complete destruction if necessary in pursuit of something noble (sorry, it's this Don Quixote complex of mine rearing its head again . . or does it ever step aside?)
'first meeting' with a referred new client yesterday added fuel to this little fire; it seems every time I get a glimpse at a new business/industry these days my learning about people and their motives delivers new learning perspective, fresh solutions emerge each time I encounter people with 'new complex problems'; strong cash flow makes gridlock situations solvable - each element I've seen many times before but this is a new combo - which makes me wonder if
all the problems have been invented already; have they?
in our relationships, in our business and volunteer ventures – each time we bump into a wall, each time we struggle to overcome an obstacle, is this problem unique to us, is it ours alone or is it one that hundreds, thousands or hundreds of thousands of people have encountered before?
every time we have a complex problem on our doorstep, I think we (I tend to do it) approach it as though this particular complex problem has never happened to anyone else – ever; which tends to have us hunkered down wrestling with ‘our problem’ rather than openly seeking a solution from those who’ve had this problem before; I used to think this was a weirdness of my own . . . . but the more I explore these ideas with people it seems, yet again, there are many who think the same way
try it . . tell someone your problem in full open detail
try it . . tell someone why you care about the issues at the root of your problem
try it . . tell someone what makes your heart beat
try it . . tell someone what stirs your spirit
try it . . you might have an epiphany . . a moment of saying, ‘ah-ha, this IS who I am’ and after that happens, nothing can stop you, nothing will prevent you from solving problems, all those major mountains that stand in your way will be minor speed-bumps, hiccups, cuts and bruises; to all who struggle and to JJ . . try it
try it . . try it today, try it tonight, try it all day, try it all night; spend your energy, your courage, your ideas on the most worthwhile project of all . . a work in progress that really really really deserves all you can give it .. to every last drop of blood, every last bead of sweat - YOU . .
Mark Kolke
225,980
201.8
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Mar. 28 2007 – responses
Wednesday Mar. 28, 2007 - risky business
[written and published from Calgary]
-3C/27F, calm, clearing; what remains of yesterday’s snow dump mostly icy ruts now so our walk through the neighbourhood and park tested balancing skills, no critters but Gusta had to sniff where they had all been; returning to a flurry of activity here, everyone getting cars out of the garage sweeping day - surely spring weather must follow!
I missed meetings I wanted to attend, failed to get some important things done, missed a few errands . . oh well; the day was long and fruitful - I flopped in a chair about 9PM exhausted, exhilarated - a full day, a fun day, a productive day, a day of hectic pace - I wondered if it had been a day of learning; you know what I mean - a day filled with 'ah-hah' moments, a eureka or two, or at least some element of the human experience teaching me something; did I have one of those?
I did, without question . . it was a powerful one
I have friends far and wide; married friends, single friends - men and women - each of us doing our part to make something work with somebody or searching for the next somebody to attempt to make things work; invariably it is difficult on various levels for everyone, more some days than others; I've been challenged to think about this more lately by my discussions with several people; each has a different issue with their partner-du-jour or the potential one around the corner or with me; I've noticed common denominators of stress, fear of stress, fear of losing themselves (or of losing themselves again), fear of losing, fear of what things would be like if/when they are truly alone, risky business either way
truly alone is great in one way, lousy in most of the others; long term solitary-ness must be good for something, but I've failed to discover it; lots of great friends make it easier but crawling into bed at the end of the day without someone to touch feels very empty sometimes; not all the time, but it did last night
I have freedom of choice; self-centred, sell-agrandizing, self-indulgent . . sometimes, yes – but also full of opportunities to explore the breadth of what I can do, what I can accomplish, risky business yes, but my risk, my risk-reward continuum – the solitary single lifestyle is not as much about risk avoidance, in fact it can be fraught with risk, but it rarely involves much risk transfer to others
risk transfer, a term I encounter a lot in my work, is sometimes an incalculable element of a transaction, sometimes intangible . . often glossed over . . but it is there in every relationship in business where a transaction of any kind is contemplated; I have been wondering if the term/concept fits well for personal relationships; when and how does this risk transfer occur then, hhmm? is it at the moment of meeting or before that, is it when values collide in hot debate or is it at some later date when lives get connected somehow? . . when does 'no risk' become 'real risk' and, perhaps more importantly, is having any relationship that does not have risks and risk transfer really worth investing any of our time or energy at all?
for the most part, I think men see it as a 'down the road thing', something that becomes clearer in their mind when reminded of previous debacles, lawyer bills and terms like division of assets and decree nisi etc.; whereas for women (based on my personal research) I think the risk transfer begins much earlier - somewhere between 'first contact' and a feeling of intimacy (in any of its forms) there is a 'risk transfer' event that MIGHT occur; it need not occur, it need not ever occur . . but it might and of this they fear, about this they worry; we should worry about it less and talk about it more . .that might be helpful
I was pondering last night; I pine for a connection that yields the ingredients I seek, one that doesn’t mess with my lifestyle; I pine for time, place, person and human-ness to collide with someone headed where I am headed, destined to walk a path together or at least to collide for a while in some state of joyousness
yet when I say these things or write them down it's as if there is a little fellow sitting on my shoulder saying 'oh gag me!' . . my history not necessarily demonstrating I am good at any of this . . but I keep trying to learn; I hope you have a great learning day . . I'll try too
Mark Kolke
226,004
203.0
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Mar. 27 2007 – responses
I have read your daily musing, and am honored that you chose some quotes and thoughts from me - hmm, will have to keep up with that… Your musings are great thought-provokers, and I plan to start reading through them, NR, Calgary
Tuesday Mar. 27, 2007- choose how
[written and published from Calgary]
-3C/27F, nothing jumped out of the dark on our walk other than soft colours on the horizon, muted through heavy cloud . . some light snow started falling as we came back . . interesting weather day shaping up, moisture to nurture every garden
PG, I remain in awe of your ability to put words together as if each sentence is wearing a pink sweater . . . or was that you in the pink sweater? . . oh well . . Happy birthday to you; to you and everyone else, to your good health; may your day be everything you want it to be
every day, most of us, suffer from a diagnosis of wellness; there is NOTHING wrong, no obstacles, no dread disease, no broken this or failing that; quite simply we are ordinary, we are healthy, we are sane, we are so advantaged compared to so many that it is disgusting; not disgusting because we are well, but disgusting because we are so far removed from the grit, determination and desperation of those who struggle, than those who fight, than those for whom ‘a great diagnosis’ is not a foregone conclusion – but disgusting because we waste so much of our energy, of our capability . . we let it just slip away a little bit every day
I try, every day, to cultivate my garden of joyful people, extracting the occasional weed, but by turning over fertile ground, keeping it fresh, keeping it raw and alive . . . I have the best chance of generating the best friendships you can imagine growing; that’s not airy-fairy stuff; I spend time every day interacting with people who matter, people who don’t matter and people who might matter; I choose how I am affected by them all – some I want nowhere near my garden, others are welcome to snuggle up and be nourished; I am thinking of developing a rule . . to enter you have to say: ‘GOOD for me!! ... and glad to meet you!’
be clear - I am not mocking sick people - but why can I not empower myself with that gritty determination of those 'never give up' folks who fight ill health, who overcome monstrous obstacles and who fight dread disease? . . they choose how
just being aware of the drive and desire to ‘make the most out of my life’ shown by so many people, many of whom are scarcely surviving, to witness their often silent suffering and anonymous bravery is awe inspiring - they choose how; we watch, but we don’t do anything with it; we don’t learn from it, use it, harness that kind of energy in our daily lives; it makes me wonder if we are all just keeping those abilities in reserve should some grim fate visit our door
last night I was smugly quoting Viktor Frank, saying ‘I get to choose how I react to what is happening to me’ . . but realize I was just tossing it out as a platitude; it is not so important that I use that guide when things are going poorly – but for me to use that lesson when things are going well; I want to tend my garden better (the metaphor silly, I live in an apartment); if I have good health, why not scrap and fight for everything I can get out of life with the unwavering determination of those who don’t have good health?
I believe we have just as good, if not better, a chance of staying in the community of the well vs dwelling in the world of the unwell, just as good a chance to thrive by saying ‘GOOD for me!! ... and glad to meet you!’ when we greet someone . . or when we greet each day, each morning; we can, I can, you can; we CAN choose how
rarely a day goes by that a news story about someone’s recurring cancer or diagnosis of some problem sends does not tell the story of an emotional tail-spin, of gutsy moves, bravery, persistence and just plain grit; most of us don’t have to look very far to find a relative or a friend or a friend of a relative where fighting adversity is not the stuff people ought to win medals for; we who are well don’t need to fight death or dread disease at our door daily, but knowing we have that kind of determination within us, should we not take on challenges worthy of that kind of energy, couldn’t we, shouldn’t we?
Mark Kolke
226,028
202.4
Mar. 26 2007 – responses
Hi Mark. I have started receiving your Musings and am not sure if I know you. Have we met?, NS, Toronto
Monday, March 26, 2007
Monday Mar. 26, 2007 - never blue Monday morn
[written and published from Calgary]
-4C/24F, clear chilly morning, heavy fog lifted to reveal clear sky; Gusta hesitated to venture on to the lagoon ice despite the temptation of 3 gulls standing in melt water at centre ice being buzzed by a pair of geese - checking to see if the neighbourhood is fit for raising young ones
yesterday, time spent in my little memory funk was good - but once a year is enough; to those who wrote or called, many thanks for the kind wishes but that’s enough OK; I had a great lunch with my dad - a good visit, my day rounded out with calls from friends and ‘making plans . . .’, and so ended Sunday . . followed as certainly as anything is certain, came Monday
I never have a blue Monday; there are too many other moods and colours to associate with this day; this day is often about exploding joy . . that would be red and orange, this day is often about good news and that would call for a sunny yellow, this day is so much about anticipation . . . that must be a mix of green and purple and flesh tones and lovalee feelings
my Monday is here now; sometimes they come by accident; when they come do we notice or can we tell the difference between those days that matter most, those days when spectacular things happen, when enabling things happen, when good news gets delivered, when hard blows get softened? . . . Monday is the perfect pillow on which to lay our head, it is the perfect day for all the things that don't fit the other ones, this precious day called Monday
it arrived in the night without fanfare - it always does; while you are sleeping I watch it come . . I usually sleep for a few hours Sunday evening, but not for long; I stay up with it . . nursing it through the night like a flu ridden child, I coax it to work with me through the night - I love my Mondays but not quite as much as my Sunday nights . . . I love those silent night time hours
my night of solitude was undisturbed, the quiet was eerie . . beyond quiet I could have heard grass grow if it was warm enough for grass to grow; at 4 AM . . it was awesome sitting on the patio in fog eating cereal and sipping coffee . . .
Monday morning is magical, surreal . . it is the great separator from the weekend that was and the week yet to be; it will always be wash day somewhere for someone, it is like no other day of the week, it is time we gave this day more respect because we need it so much; it is time to finish what Friday didn't, it is time to get ready for Tuesday, it is the hinge between our work and our play, it is the membrane that keeps our brains from leaking out on the floor when we are not looking . . . it returns us to structure, to organization, to a clock, to a schedule after a weekend without them
as morning came, my day came, my needs and wants came . . and all I wanted to do was sleep; so I slept a while and in a while I’ll sleep a while longer . . .
this morning we work, we play, we sleep, we travel and stay put, we explore or not, we endure or inflict, we experience life happening to us, we are all part of someone else’s experience at the same time . . we don’t really appreciate the magnitude till its over or at least until it takes a rest for a while . . .
every day we run a risk; the risk that something that will happen today that will change the course of history, the course of our lives or at least the course of the near future; most often those changes come with warning, with notice, with planning, with deliberate-ness; those things get us to meetings, get us there on time to catch our flights, get us on deck, on time, on our game . . .
no one says ‘hey, I was expecting Thursday’, no one says ‘don’t bother, I’ll do that tomorrow on the weekend’ . .these are things you never hear on Monday
my Monday arrived, like a new born; it will be with me only one day . . . it is maturing fast, mid day will be here soon . . and then it will chase the sun to end it and then I'll wait a week for my Monday morn; coffee in hand . . . waiting; my work day has already begun and I am waiting on those who have not yet got it in gear this morning, but they will
Mark Kolke
226,052
202.6
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Mar. 25 2007 – responses
Sunday Mar. 25, 2007 - if only
[written and published from Calgary]
6C/42F, gloomy skies, showers forecast; Gusta and I found the walk around the lagoon boring in the dark as a stiff NW wind made our eyes water
yesterday, I wrote some good words, I did errands, I cooked good food (SB came over to help me attack a prime rib roast with all the trimmings but we failed to make more than a dent), I did some reading, I ate too much, I thought too much; this morning I’ve written some good words, I had some good coffee; next I’ll read the paper, then head off in a while for a visit and some coffee with WK and I’ll have lunch with my dad
maybe her purpose was 'not to set a great example' so I could see futility in her life, in her ways, in her personality . . . if only . . . I could live a more purposeful life, not just to see life looking back from the end without the regrets she had but to be looking forward and backward and all around to see what I can see, learn what I can learn, teach what I can teach, give what I can give; if only
what is the point of life, of death, of remembrance, of remembering?
on any given day I think our answers, mine anyway, health and what is going on in our lives impact our answers, but whose life do we speculate about – our own, life in general or someone specific - what are we living for, what are we dying for, what are we willing to live for, what are willing to die for; or in my case today, what was her purpose, what did I learn?
8 yrs ago this morning Augusta Arlena Kolke died . . the last breath of worn out lungs, the last steps of a worn out body, the last minutes of a well worn life; then gone – from feisty to silent and restful; her life gone, our testy relationship over, if only
sometimes a memory creeps into my day, sometime a calendar reminder like this one, recollections of the 47 yrs. I knew her; reminder that COPD is a long slow way to have your breath taken away . . but, if only she had been a different kind of person; mine is not a complaint about the parts and traits of hers that influence who I am . . for most of my life I have been in control of that so I have no unresolved angst there (he says confidently); what I wished for as a child is what I miss . . . if only; she wasn’t someone I liked lots, but hers was not a path I got to choose, it was her life - not mine to live; like most boys the rejection of everything connected with our mothers somewhere between 11-14 is common; for most a temporary thing, a phase – for me it began at 11 and should be over soon . . if only
I try to remember happy times instead of fights, instead of arguments, instead of painful moments - I see my dad doing this more easily than I; he takes a kinder view, a gentler view; it was 8 yrs ago but sipping coffee this morning, re-reading her eulogy last night leaves me so much clearer - you see, I had these expectations; as I am sure all kids do, I had expectations of what my mother would be like, how she would treat me, how she would show me more, show me this and show me that – how she would have and could have been so very different . . if only she had tried, if only she knew how, if only she knew what people wanted of her . . me, my dad, the world . . we all had our expectations, we all had our disappointments – the loss of those expectations was probably harder to let go of than anything else; a corpse, a container for ashes, a service good-bye . . all so final, all so crisply done and gone, if only
if only we could change people, but if you think that impossibly hard, try changing someone after they are dead; a futile effort but unavoidable to want to alter the images in the rear-view mirror – to look back on a happier time made of better ingredients, of altered behaviour, of a different person – but then it would have been a different path in every way; each of these thoughts begins with ‘if only’
a life gone - a life lived, hers to live well or to live wastefully, not for me to decide; if only
for my dad, this day gets easier as each year passes – or so it seems to me; he sees his life with her as a segment of his life from which he has moved on; my view is different . . . not sure it is static but feeling clearer now; 8 years is a long good-bye; I’ve done it before, one more time won’t hurt
Mark Kolke
226,076
202.6
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Saturday Mar. 24, 2007 - tomorrows come and go
[written and published from Calgary]
6C/43F, early morning overcast giving way to sunshine; oblivious to busy traffic Gusta wanted to play there – so our morning walk was abbreviated; we walked a long time last night; we went as far as we could into the park, as far as footwear and un-melted snow on steep hills would permit; ‘stay out of the muck’ I recited like a mantra, but wet dirty dog ignored her wiser elder . . . doing what she wanted, knowing I was powerless to stop her
yesterday was a great day - the gracious kind forgiveness of someone I am getting to know brightened my day as did the easy good humour and word choice of someone who intrigues me - things I might never have noticed a while ago; it was a good busy work day too
I would not have noticed at 10 or 20 or 50 . . but I notice now; tomorrows come and go, but yesterday stays with us forever; I'm not talking about memories or their value or about learning from the past - that's another vent for another day - but what I am getting at
is this - do we help or diminish the value of our day, our next day, our next week or our next year based on our perception of the value of yesterday?
tomorrow and beyond tomorrow . . these are days to look forward to, to revere, to anticipate, to plan for, to work for, to imagine what they will be; the past is locked, its outcome certain . . but our view of it can change every day - is THIS, right now, the best time of my life, of yours, of his, of hers . . or was it that thing called 'yesterday' (not intended to be a Beatles song cue . .but . . whatever)?
putting things on my calendar has become habit; I note people's birthdays, anniversaries of surgeries or something great we started one day; I note the day I meet someone, sometimes I note the day I say good bye; I note family days and friend days . . sometimes not, but often I do that . . not because I worry about forgetting the experience or forget the person but because I want the reminder of the day it happened; today has no notations on my calendar . . but tomorrow does
some people believe (they must believe it because that is the perspective they reflect in what they say and how they live) that the best parts of life are behind them, that it is all downhill from here; if we are talking physical health, strength, endurance in a foot race, then I can see the argument that youth is the best, but at this stage of my life . . I cannot imagine anything better than now except, perhaps, the next forty years because I intend to make them better yet
I don’t think the quality of my day, my life or my expectations have anything to do with anything else; my life is as good as I choose to make it . . as I choose to see it – the same holds true for my future but the past is another matter
one of the things I like best about this stage of my life is that my knee jerks slower (it still jerks, but without the immediacy), my need to apologize for my actions or words seems less frequent but my recognition of it an action to apologize has improved a great deal . .
(perhaps memory of my mother's skill with sarcasm . .as pointed as a skewer, as sharp as a carving knife to slice the next victim) . . . I do it less, but eradication seems impossible; my calendar notation for tomorrow reminds - you see 8 years ago today my dad visited my mother in the hospital for the last time
she left me with only a portion of the chip she carried on her shoulder, she ingrained me with the sarcasm gene; she bore me, fed and watered me . . she told me to 'stay out of the muck' but mostly in childhood and even more later, I ignored her, ignored my wiser elder (OK, so the 'wiser' part was something I challenged unrelentingly from age 11 till her death) - I lived and did what I wanted . . and she was powerless to stop me; YES, if I was speaking these words I would be soft in my tone, smiling and somewhat reverent . . anger of adolescence long past, angst of a relationship most kindly described as 'strained' is 8 years behind me now, but these thinga are never really behind us, they are part of our 'yesterday', they are part of every part of us . . .
some things need remembering, some need forgetting, some drift away, some need a fresh look now and again; the best parts of our lives could be youth, the present, the future or after death but I’m sure the same criteria could be used for relationships –the stages would be ‘when they happen’, ‘when they are over’, ‘after they are over’ and ‘after death’; makes me wonder if the best part of life is behind us, around the next corner we turn tomorrow or way down the road somewhere warm where ocean and palm trees meet?
tomorrow has a notation on it already – and I suspect that tomorrow, I will make another notation of a worthy milestone to record for future reflection
today, I would like to write a poem for someone to read; you know, something to have handy to while away time one day while waiting for a tow if I get a flat I can't fix - something to read again and again, or maybe someone will write me one
yesterday was more than just a single day, but 'all the times that have passed', collectively they are 'yesterday'; today, I will write words and cook a meal, feed a friend and a thousand other things I want to do before tomorrow comes; tomorrows come and go, but yesterday stays with us forever
tomorrow I will read my words and eat leftovers
Mark Kolke
226,100
200.8
Friday, March 23, 2007
Mar. 23 2007 – responses
Hi Mark: Amusing these musings, sweeter the last few days. We talked a world or a week ago about a possible coffee. Dance card open?, WK, Calgary
Friday Mar. 23, 2007 - lapping over
[written and published from Calgary]
4C/39F, yet it seemed colder as pre-sunrise glow
filled cloudless sky with pinks and grays lapping over each other, Gusta's near-encounters with 5 dogs and 1 rabbit she desperately wanted to meet, if only she could only wrench the leash away, left my arm nearly ripped from its socket; our path through the park on mostly bare paving was a pleasant change from ice slurry dodging; ravenous pooch came home to devour breakfast, lapping her water dish as if she'd gone days without - I think she was over-lapping but that is over now - she settled by her open patio door, enjoying . . . just laying there, shedding without moving
gotta run, gotta get all this work done today so it is not lapping over to tomorrow – I have specific focused writing project for the weekend I want to protect from distraction, protect from anything overlapping
. . . a healthy pile of 'must finish today' work will ensure plenty of overlapping soon, the phone has been ringing quite a bit already - competing thoughts flying around my brain, overlapping with my walk-thoughts - all over the map, literally; this morning first derailed by dog encounters, nods and hello grunts from their owners, emails, faxes and several calls - lots of human interaction before 9 AM . . talking deals, talking dogs, talking Maui, talking . . talking; thinking beach thoughts, flower thoughts, golf thoughts, food thoughts . . intersecting and overlapping (that word always has multi-meanings for me)
would resting a head in someone’s lap too long be overlapping?
Gusta does it, loving someone stroking her head for hours . . hhmmm . . something we should all do more
this week has not been without challenges both personal and professional, overlapping; I see some things moving forward toward a result I really like . . slowly but purposefully, not because I want it so but because others do
that’s the secret, isn’t it?
people tend to do the deals they want to do, meet the people they want to meet, like the people they want to like, love those they want to love - because they want to, not because someone else wants them to; I think this holds true in every element of life, sometimes heading in opposite directions, sometimes overlapping . . . but inevitably doing what they wanted to do in the first place; getting what we want and wanting what we get . . . interwoven, spaghettied . . but not overlapping
have a great weekend
Mark Kolke
226,124
199.8
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Mar. 22 2007 – responses
Hi Mark, Thanks for the musings but I get so much stuff on my email that I'm trying to limit the non business items so please take me off your emailing list. Thanks, HG, Edmonton
Thursday Mar. 22, 2007 – make the time
[written and published from Calgary]
4C/38F, sunny, predicted frost free days and nights through the weekend; melt water starting to appear on the lagoon, or what is left of it (City crews seem to have substantially drained it leaving only an ice-lid); geese cruise by in pairs (must be spring) . . . Gusta seems to have her appetite back . . . traffic hums, path is bare, I ache for a beach to walk; I feel like a worker-
bee in search of a flower – a day for extracting all the nectar I can
whether it takes 9 months or 9 minutes, it seems we all fit important things in; no matter how busy we get, if those things are important enough - sometimes it is the challenge of fitting 3 days work into 1, sometimes it is fitting an epoch into a weekend, a heart into the palm of your hand; sometimes it is a hug while a cab driver waits, sometimes finger tips touching across
thousands of miles, sometimes it is 'lets go to Spago' or ' ..... to Peters for a burger'; sometimes it's walking some dogs, sometimes it's the end . . sometimes a new beginning, sometimes a new lease, sometimes a new lease on life; all we have to do is make the time
aside from wondering if I could keep up a flow of ideas, when I started musing I wondered how I would fit this 'walk-write' element into my day; after a few months it became routine with occasional aberrations - in time that morphed into 'writing taking precedence over a certain amount of morning time', which continues notwithstanding many competing values that compete for attention, for priority; the more I read about and listen to writers talk, the discussion is about process and routine; it seems every writer I’ve heard about has this element in their writing - each praising its importance
I look around at the things I do well in the non-writing elements of my work and play; I find the attachment to ‘process and routine’ is there too, not in the things I do poorly, dislike or avoid . . but in the things I do well, in the accomplishments I am proud of . . those same elements are ever present
I begin each week with a plan, a notion, a sense of how much I can do, how much time is needed for the things/issues/problems/new clients on my plate and for the ones who have not yet shown up, but inevitably they do; I am smart and organized - I will have taken all those variables into account so that I can finish out the week just fine; this notion that usually lasts till Thursday morning
Thursday is that day of the week when it seems like I have 60% of the things I need to do for the week 60% done but when I look at my desk, my table, my kitchen sink, the things on the floor or my to-do list I wonder if it will ever change . . . if I will ever be able to function without a ‘procrastination day’; I rationalize that it is a re-ordering of priorities . . as values compete for my head, my heart, my hours, my minutes
every week there are surprises that alter the course of our week; sometimes they alter the course of our lives for a while, sometimes forever and always - a few hours, a day, a weekend . . these are really small portions of our lives; who knows where they lead . . ?
the things I expected did not alter my week, it was the ones I didn’t expect – they often make the most difference, they taste the sweetest, they are the stiff honey worth spreading, they are the nectar of the flower . . call me honey bee or worker bee and sometime call me drone, but I never tire of this pursuit; in part it might be the adrenaline rush . . but this has become far more thematic in my life
I encounter people all the time who talk of this, they talk around this . . but they tip-toe around the opportunities that come their way; why, why avoid risk, why avoid opportunity . . what’s the point of life then?
every day we have a chance to taste those experiences; they are the flavour, they are the filling in the cookie, they are Maui days, they are happy sleepless nights, they are the dreams we want, they are the dangerous opportunities we seek out, they are ‘yes & yes’ moments waiting to happen - sea-bass dinners, winter picnics or hot dog stand rendezvous
I rarely try to play cupid; it is not something I've tried much or have a reputation for doing well, but sometimes a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do; last summer, July I think, I tried to connect two people - he a new friend, she a new client/friend; despite my encouragement they only talked - never found/made time to meet . . . until this week; they had dinner . . . I'm told they both ordered sea-bass
sometimes it is all about what we desire and thirst for trumping all other values that compete for the part of our brain that has no limit on its energy – something that triggers us to say ‘I will do this because it matters to me' . . . somehow we find the time, make the time and then we reorganize priorities; sometimes that is on a Thursday
sometimes, like today, I mix it up . . . I write first, then walk . . . I make the time, all the time; I've learned how important it is for me; I think it is true for all of us and for every worker bee . . . it's the only way we find honey
sometimes it is easy to have the 'time' of your life, if you just make the time
Mark Kolke
226,148
200.4
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Mar. 21, 2007 – responses
Good Morning My Dear: Congrats on your "Musing Milestone". I feel special having been included in your written word today. Will carry some of your thoughts with me through my day, JH, Kelowna
Wednesday Mar. 21, 2007 – stay up later
[written and published from Calgary]
-6C/22F, warming later today through to the weekend; I walked, Gusta romped, around the lagoon enjoying a big dump of fluffy snow that began about an hour ago, already 4 inches blanket everything in sight . . all one colour - but green or sand might be more welcome to me this morning; Gusta enjoying her 'spring thing' . . she is in heat; no males in sight this morning (good thing!)
CM & SM are both a year older today though you wouldn't know it . . congrats and may you have as much fun as is legally permitted where you live; to that same SM and to AW, CC and EC . .thanks for helping me out to run contests at the Spoken Word Toastmasters Club last night - it was a lot of fun and I really appreciate your help
“It’s spring fever . . . You don’t quite know what it is you DO want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!” - Mark Twain
this first day of spring, first day of 5th yr of musing, first day this week I've felt rested - tonight I'll stay up later; I feel full of something . . because spring's arrival is magical . . or maybe because I have a belief that it can be; perhaps illusion but just for today I will stay up later thinking otherwise
to those calls I did not make/return last night, I’ll try tonight . . .I’ll stay up later
for those of you, most of you, who were not around at the beginning . . here is the first of my ‘musings’ from March 21, 2003:
it was a great day for my walk this morning . .
the river is flowing . . the geese are crapping in the water and short old oriental people are out walking along with cyclists going too fast and runners dot the landscape
but you know, there are no oil wells on fire, no one is wearing camoflauge, the rumble of traffic was commuters on their way to work in their suv's . . not the roar of 70 ton tanks !!
life is good this morning
we are safe & well
the challenges of this day are few compared to the situation of many . . .
happy spring . . .happy friday ..
. . and, here are the responses I got that day:
Amen!; KK
You forgot to add that there weren't any war protesters blocking traffic and setting themselves on fire! Hope you're well.; KF
My Friend ,I appreciate your reflection on the day---we are truly a blessed group; JJ
Thanks for your thought darling! You're so right. The other day on the phone I was talking to a friend who was complaining about what? (something) - and she was waiting for me to reciprocate the experience, I said "I can't forget how fortunate I am - my child is safe, I'm safe, I'm not packing my most precious belongings into a cart to leave my home in search of a haven, I bathe in more drinkable water every morning than many women have for their entire families......We are SO LUCKY!"; MP
And Happy Spring to you. Thank you for the reminder. It is not blue sky and sunshine here but the mercury is higher and one can sense that spring is possible. And on the other side as you point out we have many blessings that too often we take for granted. Hope all is well, SC
Nice......feelings!!! nice thoughts !!!!! nice morning to us !!!!! !! thanks to Lord !! one reflection.....! The violence done in our name in time before memory; the unremembered wounds we have inflicted; the injuries we cannot forget and for which we have not been forgiven ! The remembrance of them is grievous to us; the burden of them.....is intolerable!!!! Mark.....Many, many happy ...spring days !!!!!; MdP
KK in Calgary is still a muser, KF in San Francisco is not, JJ in Calgary is, so is MP in Calgary, SC in Fort Smith is still a muser too, MdP of Los Mochis and Tucson is not . . hearing from them less often these days - but treasures every time when they do; CK (daughter Carla) did not respond that day . . she was sleeping it; she rarely responds in writing, we talk instead . . . her call last night was great, her recollection of how musings got started is fuzzy, so much fun when a 29 year old asks her dad to tell the story again . . . reminds me of two little girls who used to ask that same question - not so much because I was a great story teller, but because they knew I would and they would get to stay up later
happy 1st day of spring . . may excitement rain in Maui, in Calgary, in Kelowna, in Saskabush . . in the north, in the south, in PV, in Tucson too, in Irvine and Laguna; on beaches of San Diego, PV and Maui, on big beaches and my favourite 'little beach' too; wherever there is sun, sand, serenity and warm breezes . . think spring and think of your fellow musers in Calgary waiting for a warm afternoon
I think Twain captured it . . . for me at least, because there are far more reasons to be twitter-pated than there are not to
spring's the thing, stay up later and tell me your story
. . . many, many happy ... spring days !!!!!
Mark Kolke
226,172
201.2
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
March 20, 2007 Responses
Congratulations on reaching this milestone! I have to believe that part of you couldn’t stop now even if you wanted to! I have read of the difficulties that cartoonists have to come up with a funny each day and how this is what often causes them to have to quit, I can only imagine how challenging it is for you to come up with something intelligent each day. Thank you, SB, Calgary
Tuesday Mar. 20, 2007 – stiff honey
[written and published from Calgary]
-4C/24F, Gusta an off-leash fur blurr around the lagoon this morning while the sun rose through the fog created by those strong gusts that brought warm air over the Rockies, this afternoon will be sunny
sure I can, sure
no problem, nothing to it
a few key strokes after a walk . . hit send
nothing to it . . sure
that is how it started
but something happens; some days I have no time and a busy head – not as much time as I need, as I want . . to be reflective; sometimes that works well, sometimes not
most often, it has become more focused, more intentional
each day I have many reasons to do well, to do better; reasons to take a few extra moments, to raise my bar a little, to write better, more completely; to convey something that will be of value; today I am feeling nostalgic and have no words of advice to anyone other than to listen to the precious comments people give you; sometimes it will be a handful of words, sometimes it might only be two . . sometimes they can be very important instructions, or inspiration, or . .
they don't speak to a full blown idea - but they give a push in some direction; my experience tells me to listen, to pay attention and to go off in that direction . . just to trust it
musings teaches me this every day
the direction might be to go a different route, to say or do something different, to flaunt an outrageous idea or to simply not give up; degree of difficulty always comes into play . . but what’s the point of doing something easy?
a handful of well chosen words . . . for weaving, for folding . . . stretching me, making me stronger; a handful of words (OK, sometimes a couple of handfuls)
4 yrs. of walking every morning, 4 yrs. of writing every morning; at first I wondered if I could keep it up, then I felt an obligation to friends who were encouraging me, then strangers encouraging me; some days I do it for you . . but every day, I do it for me
4 years ago today I went for a walk with my daughter Carla . . starting from where I was living in Eau Claire, along the Bow River and over to the Heartland Café in Sunnyside and back again; we hung out, we talked about exercise routines and writing and veggie burgers; I was smug and said 'just starting' was what she needed to do to write the 'book in her'; she rolled her eyes and, without breaking stride, said 'sure dad' with a look that got me wondering about the advice, got me wondering about my smug arrogance . . . which gave rise to me writing the first musing the next day . . showing off
four years later I am so very grateful for that experience, grateful for the cause of that . . not so much inspiration as trying to justify my smugness; she was not the sole cause of this but Carla, your words were the cause, the catalyst of its beginning; I too felt I had a ‘book in me’ but had very different ideas about how that would come about . . . so the development of musings was something that had no plan, no objective, no purpose . . other than to rationalize my previous day’s smug pompousness of saying ‘just start, your abilities will show you the direction’
a mix of feedback and evolving ideas has given it direction, mentors and critics have helped me develop focus; you . . the spokes on this wheel have validated it and put a log or two on the fire in my belly
from 8 people the first day of spring in 2003 something astonishing has emerged; this morning the list stands at 9,132; for me the numbers are not the astonishing part nor is the 4 yr. milestone; it is the connection people feel with me, with each other and I with them - a connection across continents, a connection with someone else’s joy, connection with a stranger’s pain or laughing along with someone’s silliness ; 4 yrs. plus 1 leap day = 1461 times I've done this
I've always been a little defiant; each time someone tells me I cannot do something or challenges me in some way to do the difficult, to do the impossible - I had to try; in some sports like diving the point value of a performance is adjusted based on the degree of difficulty; when I started writing musings there were many days when I returned from my walk without a clue in my head what I would write, the blank page would stare at me while I struggled to write a paragraph or two - the degree of difficulty was enormous; FD reminds me the writer's brain is a muscle that needs exercise; KT, my compass, helps me stay on course . . . warns me when I am sailing into the rocks, helps me find where the water is deep and clear
a good paragraph or a couple of pages, which is better?
some days it flows like spilt milk, some days it flows like stiff honey, some days it flows like a glacier; some days it flows with power, some days it flows without momentum; some days it flows on a caffeine high or on a sleep deprivation low; some days it comes with a high degree of difficulty, some days it seems to write itself
this page was blank a little while ago – now it has definition, a flow of thoughts and a message, it will, for a few moments pull the attention of readers away from something else . . it will convey a thought or a chuckle or nothing – the message is here for the taking, or not; it is here to be important or not; interesting or not; a spark of inspiration or not
or not any of those
this page connects me to you, and you to you, and you to him, and you to her, and all of you to Gusta; this page connects ideas and points of view, this page connects shared experiences and validation more than literary credence; this page connects us
it connects all of us - each morning - to the thoughts of others; some are across the street, some are across the country, some are on the other side of the world, some are kindred spirits, some are annoyance personified; some were first, some are last; some are here and now, some will be NEXT!, some will move us in a new direction, some will validate where we are, some will never understand; some will tell everyone, some will tell no one; some will knock on my door, some will start their day with this, some will chew it at lunch some will end their day with it
thank you Carla, for giving me 1461 reasons to start my day thoughtfully . . tomorrow will be 1461+1, it will be the start of the 5th year; this day each year connects you and I; a vivid memory and I'm really glad you inspired me to 'just start'; your response challenged me to explore whether I could, the degree of difficulty was huge in the beginning - and each day I have no idea who hard it might be; I am not sorry for being a jerk that day . . . look at what it started; the next time you roll your eyes and say 'sure dad' I'll be paying attention
‘sure dad’ . . pushed me in a direction, on to a path that I never imagined
some days it flows like stiff honey; challenging to dig out of the jar . . but sweet, good to spread around
Mark Kolke
226,196
201.2
Monday, March 19, 2007
March 19, 2007 Responses
Someone, somewhere, sometime about a month ago sent ‘musings’ to my work address, and when your pieces survived through various spam filters, (maybe three a week), I started to read them. Then I went back and read the ones I’d missed, pulling them out of the junk folder. And now I look for them every day. They have proven to be a great respite to stressful work/bad bosses, long meetings, waiting for pick-up post-hockey/lacrosse/student council meetings, not to mention a great read at sunset, the end of the day, late at night, like now. You are a beautiful writer. (Although your cold weather intros make me long for a fire and a blanket — even though I live in Virginia now, I still long for the California warmth of my childhood during these cold, icy months). So, thank you for adding me as just one more to your list of many thousands. Keep writing, making us think, sharing some of yourself, teaching. All my best, EP, ?, Virginia
Monday Mar. 19, 2007 - play of life
[written and published from Calgary]
-7C/20F, warming, flurries forecast; wind in my face, brisk . . like a steel bristle brush licking an overnight ice coating on every windshield, sidewalk, driveway and street, we slid between lawn patches . . . Gusta, studded paws notwithstanding, had trouble getting traction
my weekend was a mix of the usual sprinkled with two remarkable pieces of very uncommon; two conversations . . one long long overdue . . really overdue, not a lot said but much felt; the other involving some high drama with someone I’ve not met; both powerful
weekend ends; ends, beginnings, starts, stops, hesitation . . these things weekends bring; time to ponder, time to talk, time to make min-drama into melodrama and back again, time to connect with new friends, time to reconnect with old ones, until it ends
new week, new ends, new beginnings, starts, stops, hesitation . . . talk time, until it ends
yesterday the characters unfolded, a schedule struck – venues discussed, sets decorated and costumes designed; part outline, part recipe, part happenstance, part planning, part circumstance . . oh wouldn’t it be lovalee
a week, a mini-drama, the play of life . . or play of the week (sport metaphor intended) . . begins on Sunday rather than Monday in my mind; it is the day that sets the stage, the day when I prepare . . it is a day for organizing thoughts and sometimes paper too; it is the day when my 'play of the week' begins to be written; some connections with characters who will
change my life are just beginning while others with people who have already changed mine re-visit to affect me some more; sometimes that can be unsettling in the moment . . but not for long
someone new, something new . . is bound to be full of surprises and some drama; perhaps indicative of spirited times ahead . .
what stimulates us most is not always what is best for us, but my thinking is that most wins over best most of the time, unless of course we can find both at one time in one place with one person . . then look out! . . what stimulates us most; is it emotions, learning, arousal, gratification, success – does it come in a package, in a meal, in a person, in a conversation – does it come in the morning or the middle of the night or in a message when we are not home?
today will bring a solution to a problem – I just know it will
today will bring new problems to my door – I just know it will
today will bring the calls and meetings and events that are the opening act for my play of the week; I think we miss them unless we are lucky . . or smart . . or something like that; that is how I feel this morning, but it is early in the week . . I might change my mind!
I have found, as I did yesterday, that sometimes the simplest of things said between dear sweet friends, old and new, can be very profound - worth taking note, worth taking time or I risk missing those special moments, their special meaning
another week begins – much will happen, until it ends; a clever recipe
for best results, repeat weekly
Mark Kolke
226,220
204.0
Sunday, March 18, 2007
March 18, 2007 Responses
Hi Mark, Maybe your musings are your method for “teaching life”. Maybe we are willing (or at least curious) students. Worth thinking about… , KS, Netherlands
Sunday Mar. 18, 2007 - played out
[written and published from Calgary]
-1C/30F, overcast, temp dropping; what would have been a nice morning shower become sleety, Gusta oblivious to ice vs. wet on the path or my change of pace - stopping only to visit with her black lab pal Holly; owners and I have never exchanged names, we chat 'dog' when when our pooches sniff each other, play minimal - Holly, much older, all played out
my new wheels spun up to Red Deer yesterday afternoon, Gusta loves her big new window to hang her head out of; missed DB, a drink & market catch-up with DM (thanks very much for the sketch) and home again before sun set; hunkered down with lots of work today, some reading too, lots of calls to make . . but some can wait
“To produce a mighty book, you must choose a mighty theme. No great and enduring volume can ever be written on the flea, though many there be have tried it.” – Herman Melville
maybe the reason I do this Musing is not thematic at all, just my alternative to pricey therapy; maybe the reason I look is so you can see, maybe the reason I look is so you can see me trip, fall flat, be silly, be exposed, have great joys and deep sorrows, have light flings and heavy heart stopping epiphanies, maybe I just do this because I can and because you want to look over my shoulder or maybe because you are all played out, and I am not
my life’s pursuits – my children, my work, my writing, my experiences – have much purpose, many tangents and facets yet undiscovered, but what is the ‘grande theme’ here as Herman Melville exhorts; if my life were a book, would it be Archie comic or Moby Dick, pamphlet thick or encyclopedic; if my life is MY great work . . . what is it’s great theme; if your life is your great work, what is your theme?
when you look in the mirror every morning, noon or night – what do you see; do you see eyelashes, a chin and terrain between your ears . . or do you see into your body, down to your belly, around the back and out the other end; do you see the physical you, the guttural you or the real you; not the ‘out to the party’ you, not the ‘I want to look nice today’ you, but the bare naked soul and essence of you?
I do for me; a little give, a little take, a little sweat, a little laugh, a little exhausted temporarily, but never played out
I can't take a bite out of life for you - that's your job; I take a bite for me - some days like a well planned speech or a short story . . a strong beginning, a tumultuous middle, a clear, serene and meaningful end; some days grasping to catch a little piece of something before it slips away
I can't be generous to those who need you - that's your job; I'll spread what I can to those who matter most to me - a startling read in the morning, a sleepy one at night - or perfect little afternoon delight
I can’t be smart about your life – that’s your job; I’ll continue to struggle with mine and tell those I can what I’ve learned
isn’t that it – isn’t that what it is all about?
some days I do for others, some days I do for others I don’t even know, some days I do for the tax man, some days I do for posterity but most days . . I think I am not alone in this . . I do for me
I do for me; hard to say, almost as hard to write - my critic will call me self-centred or self-absorbed, my mother would have scolded me for my thoughts, my my there’s a nerve struck; my friends would smile, my fans would applaud politely; skeptics will smile and say ‘of course, he’s a Leo’
today will never happen again, the chances we miss will never come again, the experiences we could have today will be lost; like sleep we never catch up what we missed . . we get our equilibrium back but we never recover the time we could have spent doing something new, interesting and life-altering . . we never get it back; we can postpone the activity but we cannot retrieve the time - it's been played out
if my life were a book . . I would want it to be read by those who know great books, by those who care to learn from the mistakes others make, by those who might find the nerve to do some things they lacked the nerve to do because they saw that I had the nerve to try something I was afraid of
my grande theme may not be a great lasting metaphor as Moby was to Melville (the author, not the town in Saskatchewan named for him), but it will be defining
it will be as defining for me as mine is for you; or is the grande theme of all our lives . . ‘life is as grande as it gets, that’s the theme’
Melville wrote his words on theme a long time ago in a world that has since changed greatly, I muse here in a world that will change many-fold that in the next 10 or 15 years - I think the search for grandness of theme for me, for all of us, ought to be focused on simplicity more than the grandiose, clarity more than size, impact more than the size of the splash
my life is no metaphor, my life is me
we are all grande themes, waiting to be unveiled - not as Melville conceived in terms of 'a grande theme for a piece you write' but for the lives we live
I believe everyone has moments when a sense of purpose seems absent, when one more week on the treadmill feels unbearable, when another minute or hour does not make sense when we feel so strongly that it ought to because we are pouring so much of our energy into it; when we step back a mile or two or two thousand . . when we see ourselves through the lens of another viewer we can have a much greater sense of our true value and our yet untapped worth; we have done so much; there is so much more to do
if I take bold steps sometimes, or if you do, that means toes get stepped on once in a while; if we move forward with some flourish we are certain to make mistakes, to hurt some feelings, to create some anguish and burn the occasional bridge or two . . which, in my view, is far far better than to sit on sidelines waiting for life or prince charming or a bolt of lightning to strike you
because I can, because I am my mighty theme
I am being played out
Mark Kolke
226,292
202.2
Saturday, March 17, 2007
March 17, 2007 Responses
Top O' the Mornin' to you Mark! You touched on something big for me today... The closer I look the more I realize there really is ‘nothing’ concrete there. Getting distance I see the larger picture of things only appearing to be concrete and whole... an illusion. Mahalo for taking me to this vast and beautifully empty place. It is who I really am. With loving kindness, GR, Haiku
Saturday Mar. 17, 2007 - distance learning
[written and published from Calgary]
0C/32F, the cusp of thaw; the sun warms the air which will warm the trees which will arme me which will warm everyone I touch today; Gusta enjoyed a chance to investigate the park to smell that which spent the winter under the snow . . while i stood back looking at all the buds, each will be a leaf soon
some fish are the ‘catch and release’ variety, few are perfect for the frying pan, most keep swimming with occasional leaps out of their languid pond; somewhere between sundown and a new day, somewhere between Maui and Calgary, there is a perfect fish leaping out of a pond to greet me
somewhere between me and these delusions of grandeur there is something to learn; sometimes we learn it right away, sometimes it takes longer; sometimes we learn it from others, sometimes we learn if from history or what someone clever wrote, sometimes we learn it looking in the mirror; sometimes we learn it holding someone far away, sometimes holding them very close
SB and I caught a movie last night . . incredible scenery, great acting, historical and hard to hear at the beginning because of accents . . set in 1920’s Ireland it was one of the best reasons to sit still for 2 hours I’ve seen in a long while; ‘The Wind That Shakes The Barley’ won the Palme D’Or at the 2006 Cannes Film Festival– little wonder; experiences of people I don’t know in a place I don’t know a long time ago could be today, could be you, could be me – whether love or hate or politics or pain . . issues don’t change; distance permits some learning
I am going to take my new vehicle for its first highway sprint . . north would be good today I think; Red Deer, the place where I grew up . . . 100 miles is really close yet the memory of 9 years (8-17) of adolescence in a place I left nearly 40 years ago seems so far away, so very far away – but there are special things still to be learned there; memories to be sure, of things I did, people I knew, familiar haunts . . . a handful or two of special moments there . . . never to be repeated, never to be the same . . . some to be never understood, some clearer and clearer the further away I get
distance learning is a common phrase these days; it usually involves a textbook, a computer, a course and a student of a course of course
when I was in high school I considered a teaching career, considered it quite seriously but chose a very different path – maybe I knew I could not teach what I had not learned; I considered teaching math or science – I was good at those, but what I wanted to teach was life – what it was and what you could do with it; I knew nothing of life so how could I imagine teaching it? . . fleeting thoughts at 17
by seeing more, of anything, of everything . . . from further away we see more completely, more fully and in a way that gives us more insight even though we are far removed from the little details, from the small things that have so much magic within them
stepping back we get perspective – from a foot, a yard, a mile, a thousand miles; from a minute, an hour, a year, a decade – the further away we get, do we see better?
standing back to see a bud that will be a leaf soon, how far do I need to get before I lose sight of its importance, how close do I get in examining its every detail that I lose sight of everything around it?
this makes me wonder what are we blind to, what are we seeing so deeply that we cannot see it at all?
up close we can see every detail – the closer we get the more exacting our examination of anything – ‘things’, people, experiences seen at close quarters give us every scintilla, every nuance, every microscopic element but up close we sometimes see nothing
I wanted to teach life
I now know something of life and what I know is that I know nothing of life, such a small sliver of a very large cheese but I know I can teach it now
the further I get from some things in my past, the closer I get to understanding them, understanding me, understanding someone else; the further I get on my journey I find myself dazzled less by how far I have come than by how far I have yet to go
I'm tripping back to Red Deer today for some distance learning; I wonder if I'll find anything old; new is easy to find, easy to see - catching fish to release most of them, learning things what matter most . . sometimes they require time and distance learning
Mark Kolke
226,292
203.8
Friday, March 16, 2007
March 16, 2007 Responses
Mark, sorry to hear you are feeling puky! This is the 1st email I have received from you in a while. Please change email for me to XXXXXX, Thanks and take care, KK, Calgary