14 Year Stupor

There are times when the weight of life is so heavy only pen and paper can lift it.  Scrolling through Facebook, taking in an endless stream of information, looking around at my coworkers immersed in their own devices, and wondering if they feel the weight of the 3,000 souls that breathed their last breath 14 years ago.

Why is it that day is an icon to all our nation, but the feelings are gone?  Yes, we remember, but 14 years years has turned into history, and history doesn't Feel.  Why is today any different than then?  Why did it take three thousand deaths to momentarily wake us from our divisive, slumbering stupor?  Are we not one nation?  Are we not free?  If we are oppressed, if we bow to the drudgery of our daily grind, it is no fault but our own!  Stand, American.  Rise from your 14 year stupor.  There will be sleeping enough in the Grave!

Wishing for the Weekend

"Don't wish your life away."  We've all heard it, I'm sure.  Ever since we were kids, and probably still now, our parents, our bosses, our professors, all tell us to live in the now.  Focus on your job!  Keep your head out of the clouds of the future, and focus 20/20 on the present.

This week was a long one for us - I get to say us now - and the weekend is finally here.  For probably the first time in my life I get Labor Day off, and so this weekend is going to be a longer one.  Just like anyone else working a 9-5, I've been dreaming of this weekend since the week previous.

Today during my lunch break I was reading a bit of The Poet's Guide to Life, a collection of letters and poems by my hero, Rainer Maria Rilke.  Very rarely have I thought of myself a disciple of any mortal man, but every time I read anything of his, I feel as if I'm sitting at the feet of the master.  No, his life was not exemplary, nor would I recommend making the same choices he did.  However, he always makes me think, and think deeply - and I adore that.

Today, I was reading a portion of commentary on his poem "The Flamingos".  Using an atypical bird, Rilke makes the point that certain things that we place more value on: a woman losing her sight, undying love, and death, for instance, really only have as much value at their core as a flock of flamingos.  I see his point, from his philosophy - if we are alone in this world, and there really is nothing more than the here and now, then we should value our marriage, say, just as much as we would value watching the rain fall on the window.

Ah, but we are not alone in this world.  And the wonderful thing I have been contemplating in the shower this evening (I get a lot of my best thoughts in the shower...I'm sure I'm not alone), is that my wishing for the weekend has much more significance now than it ever has before.  I'm not wishing for solitude or for a good book alone, or for "me" time...the beaming face of my lovely bride instantly reminded me of that when I walked through the door today.

This time, I think, the Master Rilke and my boss, and your parents, and his professor, and her uncle, are wrong.  If you have the fantastic fortune to be in my position, wish for the weekend, dearest reader.  Sometimes that wished away time stands still the moment you walk through the door and are captured by her shining eyes.

Weary of the week,

Washed by kiss on the cheek,

Time stands still,

Redeemed though force of will:

Wishing for the Weekend.