Melancholy

I had a piano teacher who composed music based on the poetry of Walt Whitman. Even though I am perfectly capable of playing it myself, I wish he were here tonight so that I could just sit back and listen.

Feeling somewhat sad and melancholy tonight, I'm thinking of the harmonies and dissonance of Leaves of Grass and A Noiseless, Patient Spider, of Drum Taps and The Mystic Trumpeter. I wish I could play them for you here on my blog. Help you to understand.

But I can't. Not any more than I can explain the pain in my heart.

Some things we just know. We feel. We experience.

But we can't explain.

I've learned to become comfortable with sadness. To sit with it. To let it fill me and empty itself out. To let it flow through my being, my essence, and to let it tutor me, teach me what it knows, before it moves on to its next pupil.

When you make peace with the sadness, it moves on. Finds a new home. At least for a time.

And the fact that my heart hurts tonight means that I still care. Which is a good thing.

So tonight, for the silence, the sadness, the loss, for the grief and the pain, I am playing and listening to O You Whom I Often and Silently Come. Even if it is only in my head.

"O you whom I often and silently come where you are that I may be with you,
As I walk by your side or sit near, or remain in the same room with you,
Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me."

Caring is never a bad thing. Even when it makes you sad.

Barking Dogs

I have a dog. He barks. At everyone. And everything.

Drives. Me. Nuts.

The neighbors don't particularly care for it either. Except for one, who doesn't seem to mind, saying (and I quote), "Dogs bark."

She's observant. And perhaps, profound.

So here I am, thinking about how often we get annoyed at things that just are. And will be.

No. Matter. What.

Dishes will get dirty. The laundry will never be done. And quite frankly, it's inevitable that your teenager is going to use the back of the insurance check for his marching band practice record.

At least once.

And even though the check is only for $38.22, it will probably be an irksome experience.

[Irksome in this case is a nice way of saying that the smell of death might be in the air when it happens...just maybe...]

Let's face it: We're tired, stressed, overworked, sometimes underpaid, and well, way too busy.

Maybe it's time to slow down.

My good friend, Meg McConnaughy, takes a day every semester to remind her students to look at the leaves on the trees. Another friend drinks black cherry soda from a wine glass. And another makes time to run a mountain.

Whether you are a leaf-looking, black-cherry-drinking runner or whether you have another method, it might just be time to take a minute. And do that thing. Find that thing which is your place to let loose and breathe deeply.

Your dog will thank you in the morning.

[Good thing we love that dog...]

Pedestals vs. Stepladders

I am guilty of putting people on pretty high pedestals. Some might think this a good thing...

...until they fall.

And let's face it: we all disappoint people from time to time.

Especially the people we love and care about.

Especially when we are busy or stressed or are going through a rough time. Or sometimes just because we're lazy or we've forgotten how much we appreciate our family and friends and anyone else, quite frankly, who is willing to put up with our crap.

I'm thinking of a particular friend, who some years ago, took a flying leap off of the pedestal I had put him on. He's a good guy and a good friend (and a good attorney, if you're looking for one) and he made a special point to find me and apologize and do what he could to make it right.

He didn't have the answer I was looking for, but I really appreciate the effort. Still. And it's been years.

And I know that I can count on him. Always.

Which is nice.

Rare.

It taught me this: pedestals are nice...but small wooden stepladders are much more useful.

Said another way, I'm grateful for everyone who is willing to let me move up or down a step from time to time.

Grateful for people who choose to love instead of judge.

Grateful for friends who are willing to be honest. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.

Because really...that kind of hurt is nothin' like that first step off of the pedestal.