Much has happened in my life since I last posted, though little enough of it was like to amuse such few as might chance upon this blog. Still, at various times, the stray deep thought crossed my mind. In such moments, I made a silent vow to myself that I would post such thoughts at a later date. Sadly, my people never contacted themselves to arrange a time, and unspoken word is not bond.
Yesterday I was intent on posting about life and death, as a 38 year old at my wife's place of employment passed on of a sudden heart attack (while in a boardroom meeting). Before that, I was pondering what one truly owes to family and friends, versus that which makes up generosity and kindness. Still earlier it was just families in general, as the Black family's yearly vacation was underway and/or stumbling to the finish-line full of fire and brimstone, as is our wont. None of those posts were to be, though I will say that my family is full of people generally considered to be fine communicators, however such others as would describe us that way too often neglect the listening side of communication.
Instead, I am left with a few random thoughts and some more potential poetry - mindless nonsense for those with no minds and little sense. Meager fare indeed, though enough to sustain my own interest, at least. Your own interest is for you to measure, though I suspect that I am most respected by my intellectual peers. In terms of the poetry, that means I have to hope that a number of fifth graders enjoy reading of my life now that it is less dynamic.
Night Echoes
pretty bird
come sing in my window awhile
night has come
and you must rest
but i worked all day
while you sang and sang
the moon shines bright
but only echoes remain
if a passing owl
should chance you awake
come sing in my window awhile
-JB 05/27/10
I assume that I am not alone when I feel as though my best intentions of being a productive and vibrant member of society, of choosing the right ways to spend my time, of knowing what will bring me lasting happiness; all these end in disappointment eventually, even if just a little. I think of being young, when simple things were of profound import in my life. Now, complex things take up my time yet leave me feeling cheated – and it matters not that I do the cheating.
If I was a child, I would be chasing fireflies right now and loving life. Instead, I'm chasing myself indoors to artificially cool air where the only flashings of brightness are electronic, and there is but passing joy in their catching. -JB 07/19/11
If it weren’t for my lovely sidekick wife, I would be even worse off. I was thrice lucky with her. We married young and have enjoyed one another's company longer than we might have, she balances out some of my failings (such as my inability to act in ways that would bring about my cherished desires), and she is committed to working together on our marriage and life in a way that (eight years later) still sets the goal of unity higher than self and pride. The final point is probably the luckiest of all.
Slow Morning
a smile rests easy under blue eyes
face creased with happiness
still young, but not like before
a woman’s face has replaced the girl i married
myself not quite a man
slow morning
stay slow
we’ve got nowhere to go
and i want to remember this
-JB 6/29/11
As I think back on the past few posts, I see a pattern. It is mostly Facebook posts revisited, with a little extra nonsense thrown in. Have no fear, however, because I will endeavor to reduce the predictability. My first step? I'm gonna go check myself out at the library. I hate it when people can read me like a book.
