The Inconstant Constancy of the Wind

The wind has stopped. For three days it has been raging, moaning, and blowing everything around that’s not secured in place. Now, there is a wonderful silence, a resting from endeavors before the beginning of normal activity.

Man is indeed silly. He thinks he runs the world, but he can’t stop the wind, and he doesn’t even have the sense to use its power for the things he needs to do. When I was growing up, there were windmills on every farm. Then gradually, they fell into disuse as electricity became a rural as well as a city commodity.

Now, finding ways to use the power of the wind, as a substitute for fuels that send carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, is one of the latest ideas for saving the planet. And yet, it isn’t a new idea. It’s been around. We just didn’t realize what a great idea it was. We thought using coal, gas, or oil was more modern, technical, and sophisticated. Windmills were old-fashioned.

It was fun while it lasted, but now we have to find sources of energy that are renewable. The wind is like that. It comes and it goes, but never leaves forever. It always returns sooner or later. And even though we sometimes have much more of it than we want, it’s still the closest thing we have to the long-sought-for perpetual motion. I hope we’re smart enough to use it so we can give our groaning planet a break and a chance to renew itself

In the meantime, I'm happy it's not blowing today.

Today, I'm Ninety

It is fun to have lasted this long, and to still be healthy and enjoying life. In fact, I enjoy everything much more than I used to. Now that I am painting again, it's exciting to wake up in the morning and get back to what I am working on. Even if I live another twenty years, I will never run out of things I want to do, or find out about, or see. I love my life.

Israelis in Gaza--Who Can Win?

No one can win with just a military victory. Oppression and restriction, on one side, lead to anger and retaliation on the other, in the form of rockets. Those rockets lead to anger and retaliation on the Israeli side, in the form of bombs, and now troops on the ground.

In a sense, both sides are right, but both are also wrong. The Israelis want their citizens to be safe, and to be free to live normal lives. But guess what? The Palestinians want their people to be safe, and to be free to live normal lives. Neither side can win unless they are willing to give to the other side what they want for themselves.

The best, and probably the only, way to make Hamas irrelevant, is for each country to recognize the other's right to exist, to treat each other with respect, and for each to be as fair as they want the other side to be. If life is to improve for the Israelis, it must also improve for the people of Gaza, and for all Palestinians.

The Homeless Man

We both see the same man
He's homeless and pulls a cart
Holding his meager possessions.
His gray hair is long and tangled
His face is seamed and dark
From outdoor living
There are holes in his dirty jacket
His shoes are worn and scuffed
One of them has no laces.

When he is gone:
You say, "What a mess he is!"
I say, "I wonder where he can go
To get clean."
You say, "He looks like a drinker or druggie to me."
I say, "I wonder where he goes to the bathroom."
You say, "I wouldn't blame anyone
For wanting to keep him out. Didn't you see?
One of his shoes didn't even have laces."
I say, "I wish I could help him."
You say, "Well, you really are a do-gooder!"
I say, "No, but I would be if I could."
You say, "You can't help people like that.
If you gave him money, he'd just drink it up.
Or buy drugs."
I say, "You don't have to be a drinker or a druggie
To fall out of the system.
You just have to lose your job
Have a serious illness in the family
Or lose your house--anything."
You say, "Plenty of people have troubles,
But they don't end up bums--
You're crazy, too sentimental."
I say ,"But somehow, we should be able to help.
In the end, people are responsible for each other."
You say, "Responsible! People make their own choices.
He got himself into the mess he's in."
I say, "Maybe, but still, he needs help."

You go on your way
Irritated by my "foolishness."

We saw the same man, and yet we didn't.
You saw his faults, I saw his need.
You may be intelligent and practical
I may be foolish or crazy, as you say.
But something in me feels a connection
Between him and me.
We live different lives
Have different thoughts
I know nothing about him
Or how he got where he is

But beneath all that
Beyond our human personalities
There is something within us
That is the same
Something that is the core of life

Thoughts at Christmas

For much of my life, Christmas has been a time of family gatherings, friends, gifts, parties, decorations, snow, and the scent of pine. It was also a time of nostalgia for previous Christmases, on which time had already conferred a rosy glow.

Christmas, now, is a time of reflection--thoughts about the present as well as the past. It's about appreciation for all that went well in my life, expectation that today is a good day, and gratitude for all that surrounds me. The things in my life may not look like much to other eyes. My possessions lean toward the scanty rather than the opulent, but I have a computer to write with, a studio in which I paint, instruments to play on when the mood strikes me, and I am sheltered from the Christmas rain that is falling as I write.

I can't help but think of the homeless right here in this town that have no shelter, and to whom Christmas must be just another day in which to struggle to keep warm and dry, to stay safe, to find food, and to try to find anything at all that is good in the circumstances they are in.

Here I am, warm, dry, and well-fed, not in need; and there they are, cold, uncomfortable, abandoned by life. I have done little to help any of them beyond giving a dollar when I pass near someone who is holding a sign, "Hungry, will work for food."

One of my friends, seeing me do this, asked me why. "You don't know what they'll do with it. They'll probably just go drink it up."

"Perhaps," I answered, "but it's not my business what they do with it; it's only my business that they need it."

She thinks I'm crazy.

But giving is giving. If you attach strings to it, then it isn't giving. I would give much more if I could.

If I have a prayer for this Christmas, it's to be able to be of more help than I have been to people who are in need.

Why is it that for most of us it seems to be easier to help people in a far-off foreign land than it is to help those who suffer right under our noses in our own home town?

What Happened to the "News"?

Listening to "talking heads" on the news channels, hoping to hear reasonable points of view, is just frustrating, because so many of them have become well-known by occupying a certain political niche, and once established, seldom vary from their accustomed themes.

It's no fun listening when you already know what will be said even before they say it. It's maddening to hear so-called pundits--whether from the right or from the left--fudging the facts to bolster their points of view, or even worse, slandering by innuendo and suggestion, the motives and characters of those with opposing views.

Many so-called "news" shows have morphed into gossip fests, and are about as meaningful and accurate as gossip usually is.

When someone pops into view who thinks, who speaks in more than sound bites and jargon, and who has something substantial to say (whether I agree or not), it is a pleasure and a refreshing surprise.

The news channels give far too much attention to the latest accident, car chase, celebrity divorce, or gruesome murder. There is a saying in journalism, "If it bleeds, it leads." I suspect there is another saying, "If it thinks, it stinks."

Everyone has a right to express his or her point of view--but let it be a point of view, not just rhetoric. And let's have some real news. When I look at the "World" section of my local newspaper, I realize, again and again, how much we miss on TV. I used to love CNN when it really was a news channel.

What happened to the journalists who used to dig deep for the really interesting stuff? Wherever you all went, please come back. And whatever happened to just reporting the news without lacing it with comments and opinions.? I'd like just reporting to come back, too, from wherever it went.

The Best-Laid Plans . . .Gang Aft Agly

In August, I promised, on this blog, to start painting again, and to begin with a scene of California Poppies by Laguna Lake, here in San Luis Obispo. I did that painting as I promised, but failed to keep my promise to post it here.

I've been working on my second painting since August. Foolish me, I embarked on a scene of "Dawn in the Country," which turned out to be more difficult than I expected. A dawn scene requires using gray, and the presence of gray does odd things to the colors, sometimes bringing forth colors you don't expect and don't want. I have learned a lot doing this project, and finally feel happy with the results.

I'm not sure I know, yet, how to photograph my paintings properly in order to post them here, but I will dive in and see what happens. Depending on my success, my first painting, "Poppies by Laguna Lake," and this recent one, "Dawn in the Country," will be posted some day next week. Then, I'll start a new painting.

I thinks it's wonderful that I was able to conquer my long-standing painter's block by challenging myself in public on this blog! (Read earlier posts.) It worked! Now I paint every day, only missing if events beyond my control interfere. I am happier than I could ever say to be painting again!