8/12/2016 3 Comments All the Voices I've Heard Last night I went out on my front porch to just sit after what had been a pretty good day. I just wanted to “sit a spell” and let it all soak in. Yesterday was one of those days when everything just seemed to go so right. Nothing major, just an all round “this is how it should be” kind of day. I was up fairly early, wrote my morning pages, blogged what will become part of my memoir, worked a bit in the side yard and walked the dogs. I ran a few errands, had lunch, a nap in the hammock after reading some and got cleaned up before fixing some dinner and going to a photography club meeting I have been intending to check out for a long time. It was a good day. I just wanted to savor it a bit. It was quiet on the porch so I was free to let my thoughts wander while I enjoyed a bit of dulce de leche ice cream. What could be better than that? Then Miguelito, my little chorkie dog, decided to let out a war-hoop and chase the cat and that was that. Time to go to bed. And I slept very well. I really did. This morning I wrote my morning pages again, out on the sideyard deck. It is a wonderful place, secluded from the street and neighbors, yet letting all the sounds of morning in. I heard the neighbors leaving for work, a landscaper begin to mow and the traffic in the distance beginning the daily rush to work and school. I felt so blessed to be able to just write and ponder the meanings of life. Checking Facebook as I always do, I found the above meme posted by one of my dear friends. At first I thought about how true it seemed. I do look skyward and talk to whatever super being is up there, perhaps the moon. Wouldn’t it be nice to hear it talk back? But then I realized that is me trying to make “God” human. That isn’t gonna happen. We can’t contain something that is so large, so infinitely omnipresent. We just have to let it be. Besides, it is always “talking” to us in all those things I mentioned above. This is a good time for me. Having been through some sad days of late, losing good friends, feeling stymied by distractions and other-oriented demands, it was due. I have taken up the pen and the camera again. And, as happened in my morning pages, the critic once again reared its ugly little head. “It’ll never last.” “You’ll get side-tracked again.” “You’ll say yes when you mean no.” It warned that I’ll succumb to distractions and take side-tracks. And of course I have to wonder why? Perhaps it is because those are the familiar ways. They are comfortable even in their uncomfortableness. A paradox. We choose what is familiar, I suppose, because change is scary. They say be the change you want to see. I try and then I feel like I am being unfaithful to the old ways, to that little voice that tries to keep me safe by keeping me from change, from staying the course. I have to say I am so fortunate to be able to make that choice. So many are not in that position right now. I can follow my passion. I can say yes. I can say no. But even as I write that, a small wave of anxiety washes over me. To that I should say “so be it!” And make the choice that is right for me. At the moment everything has become very still out here on the deck. It is as if the universe is waiting. “What will he do next?” “All,” as another friend is apt to say, “shall be revealed.” Yes indeed, all shall be revealed. In the meantime, this feels right and good. And shall be my meditation for today.
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I hate it when I can't truly remember something from the past. And I also hate that anyone who might remember is gone now. As you may or may not know, I have been working on a couple different memoirs for some time now. One is about my childhood, growing up in a small township to the northwest of Detroit. My latest struggle is trying to remember a detail about the fence that enclosed our front yard in the little house I grew up in. I remember it being there when I was small, and then for some reason, the front portion was taken down and the portion along the driveway left up. Then some years later, that fence, too, was taken down. But the posts were left up for many years after, I think until I left home in the 70s. But I cannot remember why! Or who did it! I do remember thinking it was ugly. We were the only house on the street who had a fenced in front yard. We were one of the few houses on Centralia were set to the back of the lot. (The entire subdivision was like this, all with Indian tribe names). They were small lots and I suppose this was to give the house a sense of privacy? I don't know that, either. The house was built in the 1920s. There were four other houses on the street of the same era. As the lots on the street were built upon in later years, they were all set to toward the front, giving those houses a nice backyard. Our backyard was tiny and not very inviting. I remember thinking that fence kept us from being part of the neighborhood. Or perhaps it made us different. Different in those days was not a good thing. Looking back, it was clear the neighborhood itself was a hodge-podge of building styles, ranging from our little Dutch revival to two story brick-fronts to salt-shaker and then mid-century modern. All were small, yet distinct unto themselves. As I said, ours was built in the 20s. The last house built on the street came in the late 70s. Imagine. Anyway, that's a story for the memoir for sure. Many stories in those little houses, our family's just one of them. But what I'm thinking about here is just how difficult it is to recall some details...details that will probably be lost forever. The people who created them are gone. No one to check with. I have re-connected with several people who spent some or all of their growing up years on Centralia. I doubt they remember why the fence came down, either. I bet some of them remember the birthday parties and other fun times we had in that yard, but even those memories are faded now. Right now I am hating that it happens that way. Maybe there is a good reason it does. Too painful? Too sad? Perhaps a real mystery of a criminal nature? Probably now, but in the meantime, I suggest if there is memory that just doesn't come clearly to you, and you still have others who were there at the time, ask. Write it down if you must. You probably will wonder some day...just as I am now, about that dang fence. |
Rob McMurray,
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