A Resolution For the Irresolute

I’ve had a long standing agreement with my life… if there’s anything about it that I really don’t like, I procrastinate dealing with it until I hit one of two milestones…either my birthday or January 1…

It’s a shitty plan, admittedly.  And many times I just hit a mental “Postpone” button (kinda like that Windows Update that keeps cropping up on my screen… you do it, too.  Don’t judge me.)

I’m not a believer in resolutions.  I’m firmly irresolute.  The only thing that I do believe about resolutions is that they usually wind up left at the curb with the dried Scotch pine and broken light strands of the holidays somewhere mid-month.

As I write this, it’s 7 degrees outside, I’ve got a fire snapping and popping in the fireplace about 3 feet away, but I have something burning much more intensely inside.

The urge to write.  To create fantasy.  To actually make my living from all of the demented fermentation of thoughts, words and ideas sloshing around in the ol’ skull… at least while I still have enough synapses connected to accomplish that.

You only have so many good years on the planet.  I’ve been counseling my youngest on that very fact.  He spends an inordinate amount of time worrying about deep life issues that a 13 year old needn’t occupy their thoughts with.  But that’s a tale for another day.

As I lecture him from my Paternal Pulpit, a little voice distracts me.

“Great advice there, Pops.  Now, when does the physician heal himself?  When do you start taking your own advice?”

I firmly and politely tell that voice to piss off.  I’m tending to my fatherly duties.

“Sure, Pops.  You’re 47, you know.  Ain’t getting any damn younger, that’s for sure.  Just when do you expect this wonderful writing career to start?  Another year just flew past you.  Another year that you could have been living the life you want to, but you let it slip past.  It’s gone.  Adios.  Sayonara.”

Yeah, yeah.  I get it.

“Do you?  Do you get it?  I happen to recall YOU telling a co-worker that life was short…and if he was unhappy, he should retire.  You told him not to waste any more of his life being miserable.  You should have been having that conversation in the mirror, pal.”

And so on and so forth.  I won’t bore you with the rest of the mental debate,  but I’m pretty sure that the voice called me a dumbass and other less nice things.

But it’s true, folks.  Not just for me but for you as well.  You ain’t getting younger either.  So if you are as irresolute as I, skip the resolutions and instead pick one goal to accomplish.  I don’t care if it’s racing in the Cannonball Run, or creating art or simply getting your damn laundry caught up.  Accomplish that goal and then pick another.  Baby steps, just like Bill Murray’s mantra in “What about Bob?”

Tomorrow isn’t a guaranteed delivery.  The only thing that you know is that you have the moment now.  Take action.  Put paint to canvas.  Carve unflattering soap sculptures of your sister-in-law.  Seek and destroy whatever is creating that godawful funk in your teenager’s bedroom.  Whatever it is that you have been putting off, your time to do it is now.

Before another year passes you by, buttercup.

(But seriously, find out what in the hell is causing that smell.  The stench is overpowering)

Thanks for a great 2017.  I appreciate you and especially those who have been kind enough to give me comments and feedback.

Meanwhile, Imma get busy writing.  I’m going to try my hand at erotica, but I can’t post that stuff on a wholesome family blog like this…

Or can I?

(laughs wickedly and then coughs and hacks… damn cigarettes)

 

 

 

 

 

A heartfelt apology to you…

When I started this blog last year, I had visions of regaling you with endless tales of whimsy and fascination. I’ve spent the last months trying to wring some worthy fiction from this brain o’ mine. I’ve tried to to force this square peg of a blog into the round hole of my dreams and expectations to no avail.

Apparently my writing roots run deeper in the Charles Bukowski soil than I thought. Somewhere in that ethereal subsurface, the taproot has found tasty vintage in a deep, sometimes melancholic aquifer. Fortunately, the other roots keep feeding me the occasional tale or memory that provides diversion.

It isn’t what I had in mind. I wanted this to be a fun escape, not a baring of souls…

So that seems to be the highway we are hurtling down with occasional trips down the washboard backroads. And now, as Hunter said many years ago, I’ve bought the ticket. I might as well take the ride.

And you’re all coming with me. For that, I apologize. The advantage you have over me is this: you can jump off the train at anytime. I, however, am buckled in tightly with no knowledge of when or where the ride goes but with the belief that I will be gratefully exhilarated when it ends.

A little background to (hopefully) clarify today’s musing:

My own spirituality is a unique hybrid. If your gaze fell upon the shelf that I keep the books that I find the deepest solace and guidance in, you’d see a mix of Buddhist, Christian, Pagan and Native American spirituality.
The man-made elements of religion have done more to drive me away than to draw me closer to God. As a result, I’ve pushed myself further into seeking wisdom down different paths. In my spiritual travels, I’ve learned to note things such as today: the Vernal Equinox, combined with a New Moon and an eclipse.
My Druidic forebears would have seen great significance in this, and would have altered their usual rituals accordingly.

My own ritual? I will light a candle to mark the equinox and put my intention out there to keep writing and belief for it to grow, just as the farmer pushes the pumpkin seed into the cold spring soil in the belief that a strong healthy, fruitful vine will come forth even though he has no idea which direction the plant will go.

So today I will do a little equinox dance for you. I intend that the magnified power of today’s welcoming of the growing season will feed and sustain this virtual, verbal garden that I tend here. I will shed the doldrums and sluggishness of my Winter’s hibernation and keep priming the pump with these posts until it fills up and allows words to start flowing into a longer stream.

And I encourage you to the same in your life. Whatever it is that has been your passion and desire to do, and you have been sitting there waiting for the light to change from red to green, I encourage you to put more pressure on the gas pedal. As I have said before, my line of work reminds me daily of the short and unpredictable nature of this life. The power of today’s equinox also signals a change for your own growth. It is a sign for you to make the first move.

Take action. Till the soil. Turn last year’s regrets and hesitation under the earth to compost and fertilize this year’s adventures. The sun will warm the ground for you and the rains will fall to nourish whatever it is you should choose to plant.

Plant something and take care of it. An untended dream is like an unkept garden. If you just stick something and leave it to its own, it will most likely fall victim to pests and decay. The fruit will be bitter or rotten before you have a chance to enjoy it.

And that, dear reader, is a plain waste of your life and dreams. I will close this with some great motivation from “The War of Art” by Steven Pressfield.

“Are you a born writer? Were you put on earth to be a painter, a scientist, an apostle of peace? In the end the question can only be answered by action.

Do it or don’t do it.

It may help to think of it this way. If you were meant to cure cancer or write a symphony or crack cold fusion and you don’t do it, you not only hurt yourself, even destroy yourself,. You hurt your children. You hurt me. You hurt the planet.

You shame the angels who watch over you and you spite the Almighty, who created you and only you with your unique gifts, for the sole purpose of nudging the human race one millimeter farther along its path back to God.

Creative work is not a selfish act or a bid for attention on the part of the actor. It’s a gift to the world and every being in it. Don’t cheat us of your contribution. Give us what you’ve got.”

See you down the trail.