For some reason today I keep hearing a little rif from an old Chuck Berry song. "Riding along in my automobile. My baby beside me at the wheel."..............." Can you imagine the way I felt. I couldn't unfasten the safety belt."......................"Riding along in my autoboose..........still couldn't get that belt loose."
The sun coming in through the office window, gradually shifting from one side of the glass to the other, and Chuck lamenting his way through rock'n'roll history in my head. His girlfriend forever trapped in the passenger seat. I just can't help smiling. It is one of those songs that just reminds you of weekends or evenings with absolutely nothing to do. Just time to relax and take a cruise.
Of course the cost of gas and the issue of the excess carbon footprint issued by traveling randomly is sort of a downer when you really start thinking about taking that long random ride about town. As is the construction and the traffic congestion which will no doubt take the wind out of your hair and force you to roll up the windows and use the air conditioner - which is also not good for the environment. (And I suspect is also not that good for your health.)
But that is not really the point - the idea is the pure simplicity of the vision created by the song and the simple humor of a boy who doesn't know what to do with his malfunctioning seat belt. Young love/angst at its best. All humor and no drama. Lovely.
So I say to myself - What a Wonderful World. And now I have a new song to occupy my evening.
Well, at least I am staying in the upbeat swing of things, even if the music is getting more dated as the time wears on. I guess it is good thing that I really don't know any caveman era songs, I have a feeling those would not be pleasant to hear bumbling about one's head as you worked.
Well so much for What a Wonderful World.
It seems the music we play for ourselves, the images we give to ourselves can very much persuade how we feel and how we approach our day. Yet I know that simply setting my Ipod to a specific artist or song does not always make a difference. It is the music that runs through my mind that sets the tone. It is the images that flash through unbidden that shape the mood.
I am not sure if the music stems from the mood or vice versa. But I do know that when I take the time to listen, it generally lifts me up.
"Crack the shutters open wide..........." Well, that is better, I have fast forwarded to a modern band. And thank you Snow Patrol for joining me today.
Hope you are having a wonderfully Musical Wednesday.
Rock Steady
Rence
Its Cold Out Here....but Beautiful....
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Friday, May 18, 2012
Windows - A Traveler's Tale
The glaze on the window resembled the sugar slick coating on a donut
Not the sandy, gritty kind
The melty sweet sticky
Glued to the surface, gummed on your hand
If you dare to touch it kind
It clung to the outside of the glass
Battling the wipers
and winning
We drove on anyway
Its haze a comfort in the heat
The only cold a bright collective wish
dimming with every mile
The passenger window reflected vague shadows
through its sugar induced haze
My breath forming patches I could draw in
Making pictures that could be seen from inside
but the window was not giving them to the world
Conversation had long since fallen off
The effort of speech matching
the effort of the wipers
It occurred to us collectively that
darknesss, when it came
would make very little impact
Given our current state
I guess that's about when we decided
to continue on.....................
Ever wonder just how much time we spend traveling this way:? trundling along with the windows so gummed up that the view is no more than the shadows of what we assume will be there? Aware of the heat? Perhaps even dimly aware that there is something out there working toward clarity - if we could only get there?
I guess we don't really have to worry though - its not like its our responsibility to clean the windows before we take off on the trip - right?
Not the sandy, gritty kind
The melty sweet sticky
Glued to the surface, gummed on your hand
If you dare to touch it kind
It clung to the outside of the glass
Battling the wipers
and winning
We drove on anyway
Its haze a comfort in the heat
The only cold a bright collective wish
dimming with every mile
The passenger window reflected vague shadows
through its sugar induced haze
My breath forming patches I could draw in
Making pictures that could be seen from inside
but the window was not giving them to the world
Conversation had long since fallen off
The effort of speech matching
the effort of the wipers
It occurred to us collectively that
darknesss, when it came
would make very little impact
Given our current state
I guess that's about when we decided
to continue on.....................
Ever wonder just how much time we spend traveling this way:? trundling along with the windows so gummed up that the view is no more than the shadows of what we assume will be there? Aware of the heat? Perhaps even dimly aware that there is something out there working toward clarity - if we could only get there?
I guess we don't really have to worry though - its not like its our responsibility to clean the windows before we take off on the trip - right?
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
The final 60 Seconds
What would you take with you if you had 60 seconds to collect yourself before you had to leave your home forever? Don't spend time with your answer, let the first things that come to mind become your answer.
Then ask yourself again. Does the answer change? When you look at these two reflections of yourself, what do you see? Do you like the image reflected? More importantly, did you answer honestly? Or did you answer the question posed knowing that you would have to deal with that reflection later?
Its odd, but with as much as a collector as I am, my first response would be to find the cats. My boy's love them and so do I. But the opening phrase of that last sentence is key for me. My boy's love them. I would find them first. My memories, the other items I surround myself with, the physical things may not be replaceable - but the memories really can't be taken away. The cat's though, I just could never explain why I saved an object before saving them.
When I ask it a second time, - as if my 60 seconds have expanded and the cats are safe, I feel free to add a few more bits and pieces, the paintings that are special I can grab along the way, the necklace from Ireland from my mom, the one my dad made me and the rings he made the boys (this is easy - they are stored together in the same box), and Peanut Butter of course. Thinking it through I realize that these are all on a direct path to most of the exits in the house, only one painting is at risk if I have to leave through a rear window. I have to admit I have a desire to move that one so that it has a better line toward the exit in the event of disaster.
And then I remember, I probably won't get an expanded 60 seconds. I will be very lucky indeed to get Cooper and Magic outside with me. And if I can do that I will feel blessed.
I sit back and wonder at all the little items I have accumulated and associated with importance. The bibles the boys and I read together after my Da's parting. The one we bought for him to place at the table. The small tokens of remembrance. My rock garden, accumulated over the years, as Collin found them one at a time and brought their intrigue to me. The host of pictures, drawings, pieces of writing and knick-knacks that tell a story from a stolen hour here or there with the important people in my life. The framed poem on the fireplace from Nancy and my little Leprechaun (also from Nancy). I am surrounded by images of love and laughter in my home.
But in that final 60 seconds I think I know that while they give me comfort now, I would not try to save them. I carry them with me wherever I go. I would take the cats, the smelly, fussy wonderful cats, as a continuing gift and a measure of the value of life.
What would you take?
Then ask yourself again. Does the answer change? When you look at these two reflections of yourself, what do you see? Do you like the image reflected? More importantly, did you answer honestly? Or did you answer the question posed knowing that you would have to deal with that reflection later?
Its odd, but with as much as a collector as I am, my first response would be to find the cats. My boy's love them and so do I. But the opening phrase of that last sentence is key for me. My boy's love them. I would find them first. My memories, the other items I surround myself with, the physical things may not be replaceable - but the memories really can't be taken away. The cat's though, I just could never explain why I saved an object before saving them.
When I ask it a second time, - as if my 60 seconds have expanded and the cats are safe, I feel free to add a few more bits and pieces, the paintings that are special I can grab along the way, the necklace from Ireland from my mom, the one my dad made me and the rings he made the boys (this is easy - they are stored together in the same box), and Peanut Butter of course. Thinking it through I realize that these are all on a direct path to most of the exits in the house, only one painting is at risk if I have to leave through a rear window. I have to admit I have a desire to move that one so that it has a better line toward the exit in the event of disaster.
And then I remember, I probably won't get an expanded 60 seconds. I will be very lucky indeed to get Cooper and Magic outside with me. And if I can do that I will feel blessed.
I sit back and wonder at all the little items I have accumulated and associated with importance. The bibles the boys and I read together after my Da's parting. The one we bought for him to place at the table. The small tokens of remembrance. My rock garden, accumulated over the years, as Collin found them one at a time and brought their intrigue to me. The host of pictures, drawings, pieces of writing and knick-knacks that tell a story from a stolen hour here or there with the important people in my life. The framed poem on the fireplace from Nancy and my little Leprechaun (also from Nancy). I am surrounded by images of love and laughter in my home.
But in that final 60 seconds I think I know that while they give me comfort now, I would not try to save them. I carry them with me wherever I go. I would take the cats, the smelly, fussy wonderful cats, as a continuing gift and a measure of the value of life.
What would you take?
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Electronic Slipstream
This onslaught of input
the constant barrage from the hypertechnical world
makes my eyes itch
my neck lean un-naturally to the side
looking like a cantilevered addition to my body
Unplugged I am incomplete
Floating in a sea of tranquility
yet somehow bereft
Caught in the speed of communication
trapped in access to information
Fingers glued to the keyboard
I am in the mainstream
Perhaps I have been assimilated
or simply dislocated
the constant barrage from the hypertechnical world
makes my eyes itch
my neck lean un-naturally to the side
looking like a cantilevered addition to my body
Unplugged I am incomplete
Floating in a sea of tranquility
yet somehow bereft
Caught in the speed of communication
trapped in access to information
Fingers glued to the keyboard
I am in the mainstream
Perhaps I have been assimilated
or simply dislocated
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