Simple Pleasures

From Then Till Now To Summer

/ James Browning

To a good degree I have a high school English teacher named Miss Upchurch to thank for cultivating my love of poetry.  That written in lyrical rhyming form is my favorite kind as it bounces along when read almost like the beat of a song does.  Going through some old files on my computer I came across a rather obscure poem by one of my top five favorite poets;  Swinburne.  Here is the first half of his “calendar” of poetry. Being now in March we are about in the middle of the six months Swinburne writes about. In words of the poet here’s “from then (year’s start) till now (March) to summer (June)”:

” A Year’s Carols” by Algernon Charles Swinburne

JANUARY
Hail, January, that bearest here
On snow bright breasts the babe-faced year
That weeps and trembles to be born.
Hail, maid and mother, strong and bright,
Hooded and cloaked and shod with white,
Whose eyes are stars that match the morn.
Thy forehead braves the storm’s bent bow,
Thy feet enkindle stars of snow.

FEBRUARY
Wan February with weeping cheer,
Whose cold hand guides the youngling year
Down misty roads of mire and rime,
Before thy pale and fitful face
The shrill wind shifts the clouds apace
Through skies the morning scarce may climb.
Thine eyes are thick with heavy tears,
But lit with hopes that light the year’s.

MARCH
Hail, happy March, whose foot on earth
Rings as the blast of martial mirth
When trumpets fire men’s hearts for fray.
No race of wild things winged or finned
May match the might that wings thy wind
Through air and sea, through scud and spray.
Strong joy and thou were powers twin-born
Of tempest and the towering morn.

APRIL
Crowned April, king whose kiss bade earth
Bring forth to time her lordliest birth
When Shakespeare from thy lips drew breath
And laughed to hold in one soft hand
A spell that bade the world’s wheel stand,
And power on life, and power on death,
With quiring suns and sunbright showers
Praise him, the flower of all thy flowers.

MAY
Hail, May, whose bark puts forth full-sailed
For summer; May, whom Chaucer hailed
With all his happy might of heart,
And gave thy rosebright daisy-tips
Strange fragrance from his amorous lips
That still thine own breath seems to part
And sweeten till each word they say
Is even a flower of flowering May.

JUNE
Strong June, superb, serene, elate
With conscience of thy sovereign state
Untouched of thunder, though the storm
Scathe here and there thy shuddering skies
And bid its lightning cross thine eyes
With fire, thy golden hours inform
Earth and the souls of men with life
That brings forth peace from shining strife.

….to be continued….

My favorite times of year are spring and fall when subdued warmth comes in the day time and coolness prevails at night.  Those two changes of the season are living metaphors for the transitions of life.

I love every cool night where a jacket is needed that follows a day one is unnecessary.  Crawling into bed last night and first feeling the cool covers on my skin, aloud I said “this is wonderful”.  I am grateful for my growing awareness of living in the “now” that brought such a beautifully grateful moment to me.

Gratitude can transform common days into thanksgivings,
turn routine jobs into joy,
and change ordinary opportunities into blessings.
William Arthur Ward

Hey, Hey, My, My

/ James Browning

In the spring of 1968, a fourteen boy was spending two nights away from home attending a regional science fair at a minor state college.  Having never been on a college campus, much less stayed overnight on one the young man was filled with wonder.

In the two hours he was allowed free time, he explored the campus and early on found the school book store which sold a lot more than books.  In the boy’s hometown of 1,400 people there were only two places to buy records:  the ‘five and dime’ that stocked only 45’s and the IGA grocery store that had a few bins of albums.

Prior to the campus visit the young man had been a top 40 radio listener and leaned toward artists like the Beatles (who he never saw together in concert), Paul Revere and the Raiders (his first rock concert in March ’67 with a friend and his older sister) and Motown acts like Temptations and The Supremes.  Little did he know the March ’68 visit to a college was going to result in a sharp left turn in his music taste.

Thumbing through the albums in the Jacksonville State book store the boy saw names he did not recognize like early albums by Jethro Tull and Pink Floyd when they were completely obscure.  The fourteen year old spent almost an hour thumbing through the LP’s taking time to read the liner notes.  Ultimately it was cover art that drew him in to buy two albums:  “Heavy” by Iron Butterfly and “Are You Experienced” by the Jimi Hendrix Experience.  He had no idea the effect these records would have on him, especially the Hendrix album.

Once home he listened to both albums over and over and over on his mother’s portable hi-fi.  While the Iron Butterfly LP became a favorite and led him to their “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” album that would be released a few months later, it was Jimi Hendrix’s music that completely captured his attention.  The album he purchased, although released the year before, was just beginning to catch on in th eU.S. and had already been followed by the release of a second album.  And a third one was soon to follow.  He bought both instantly when the came into the IGA.

While he had no idea about the drugs that accompanied the psychedelic scene, the young man loved the look, long hair and clothes of the culture and adopted it.  It helped him to begin to ‘find himself’.   Years later he found out at a high school reunion that ‘in the day’ he had been known as the “original hippie of Clay Country, Alabama”.  He liked hearing that as it suited his sense being uniquely original.

Just in case you have not figured out who that young man was, it was ME!

I never saw Jimi Hendrix live.  About three months before Woodstock he played once in Alabama on May 7th, 1969 in Tuscaloosa at the University of Alabama.  But that was before I got a driver’s license later in the summer and could not find a way to get there.

Last night I got to enjoy about the closest thing to Jimi live I will likely ever get to see:   “The 2012 Experience Hendrix Tour”.  The show featured around 25 musicians from the famous to the semi-famous who spent over three hours taking turns playing Hendrix tunes.  Billy Cox from one of Jimi’s bands was there. So was Robbie Krieger of the Doors and Brad Whitford from Aerosmith.   Others on stage were Buddy Guy, Cesar Rosas and David Hidalgo of Los Lobos, Jonny Lang, Mato Nanji of Indigenous , Eric Johnson, Dwezil Zappa, Bootsy Collins, Chris Layton, Eric Gales, the Slide Brothers and more.

Near the end of the show it was one of the youngest guitarists present that seemed most to be filled with the musical spirit of Jimi Hendrix.  Kenny Wayne Sheppard’s blazing “Voodoo Child” rendition is a performance I will never forget.  When I closed my eyes it was like Jimi was on stage.

For any Hendrix fan the “Experience Hendrix Tour” is a must see if it comes to your town.  How someone got so many guitar players on one tour I will never know, but will always be grateful he or she did.

Had he lived, this November James Marshal Hendrix would have turned 70. R.I.P.

Hey hey, my my. Rock and roll can never die.
Neil Young

Onto Houses and My Windowpane

/ James Browning

How long has it been since I walked in the rain just for the fun of it?  About 10 hours!  The good feeling that comes to me when raining fills a day goes back to my childhood.  I have no idea how those times got fixed in my mine as so wonderful when I was little, but am grateful they did.  It is an extraordinary feeling.

“Rain Drops” by Ellen Baumwoll (mothergoosecaboose.com)
Rain drops from the clouds and onto trees,
Down the tree trunks and off the leaves.
Down a mountain, into a brook,
Past a chipmunk in a nook.
Into a pond, off a log.
On top of a turtle and onto a frog.
Onto roads, onto the grass,
Onto trains and trucks that pass.
On top of bridges, cars and boats.
Even onto people’s coats.
Onto houses and my windowpane.
I just love to watch the drops,
The drips and drops of rain.

Last evening about 9pm with my rain resistant jacket, boots and an umbrella I set out for a half mile, thirty minute walk through my neighborhood.  The constant drizzle ebbed and flowed with intensity moving from light to heavy moment to moment. Lightning every minute or so painted the sky electric blue-white for a split second followed by the low throaty rumble of distant thunder.  The constant gentle tapping on my umbrella by the raindrops made a comforting sound as I walked.

Walking down my street I noticed was how new and fresh everything looked.  Cars shimmered in street light with a new temporary shine from the rain.  Even the pavement and sidewalk looked less worn with water filling cracks and imperfections.  At least half the homes were already dark and peaceful for the night.  Those houses mixed with the ones still showing the light of life pouring out from within gave the street a peaceful, soft and warm glow.

If plants could make audible sound I am certain last evening there would have been joyful noise filling my block.  I imagined the trees, flowers and bushes might make a consistent aaahhh of pleasure like I might when first slipping into a warm bath. It seemed the very leaves on the trees were upturned inviting the rain and trying to catch a little more.

I noticed the assorted smells of the season have begun.  The scents came and went sometimes as several mixed together into a symphony of delightful smells.  Walking by a tulip tree that is just starting to flower I stopped for a few moments to absorb a little extra of the sweet, pleasing aroma.

Paying attention to the sound of the storm drains I noticed in the flatter areas the rushing water made the sound of a small creek gurgling by.  On the small hill I live the storm drain roared like a river over rocks as at least eight inches of water assaulted the opening and fought to get through.

The entire time of my walk I saw only one car moving and it was simply being relocated in a driveway.  On the street nothing was moving except the water and me.  The roads are never as crowded on an evening filled with rain.  I heard no hum of traffic in the distance, nor whine of a motorcycle; a sort of usually unnoticed peace.

A year ago I moved into the home where I now live and have seen the very elderly gentleman next door only once.  He is in failing health and several times an ambulance has had to come get him.  In recent months 24 hour care givers have been coming and going, but last night the house was completely dark.  That alone made me realize anew what a great gift my health is and how blessed I was to be able to enjoy a simple walk in the rain.

Today is the first day of spring.  I find it fitting that the rain is still coming down, since after all ‘spring showers do bring spring flowers”.  My jacket and boots are still in the entry way drying and my umbrella should by now be mostly dry out on the porch.  More than most I am grateful not only for all life the rain makes possible, but for the spectacular experience of a downpour itself.  My walk last night in the mist and showers will be a long remembered experience; one I am deeply grateful for.

Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness
has never danced in the rain.
Unknown

Frequently What Passes As Common Fact

/ James Browning

On occasion I find myself daydreaming about living in a different time; a simpler time as I perceive it to be. It is then my romanticized thoughts often drift to the mental imagery I have of the Victorian era of 120-150 years ago.

Many of my favorite poets and writers lived then.  To a large degree it is through their work my thoughts about that ‘old time’ have been created.  However, I often forget those authors were among the priviledged, if not wealthy.  Their time of the “Victorians” was a grand one of change and invention such as the telephone, radio, toilet, camera, train, vacuum cleaner and sewing machine (but only the very rich could afford them).

There were some curious and odd beliefs then. For example, If a single Victorian man called another single woman by her first name, it implied engagement. When a woman entered a room, it was considered rude for a man to offer his seat to her because the cushion might still be warm. For a lady to show her ankles was considered very risqué!

People thought food digested better in the dark, so a dining room located in the basement was considered the best spot in which to eat during Victorian years. A glance by a visitor into a bedroom was considered improper, so bedrooms were usually located on the second floor. Toilets were always stealthily hidden behind walls and/or curtains and it was considered grossly impolite to ask to use the bathroom when visiting another’s home.

And another little oddity: The Victorians began keeping Hedgehogs in their basements in an effort to control insects. The little things curled up and slept during the daytime, but roamed around dark kitchens at night eating cockroaches and other insects.

To shake me fully out of a fantasy world there are the Victorian health concerns such as Tuberculosis, called “consumption”; the main killer of the time along with rampant pneumonia, influenza and diarrhea. To make matters worse the poor or sick were often sent to harsh institutions called a poorhouse or workhouse.

And to make sure I have returned to reality, the following are all true facts about life in the United States in the early 1900’s just after the Victorian Period:
– The average life expectancy was 47 years.
– 14 percent of the homes had a bathtub.
– 8 percent of the homes had a telephone. 3 minute call from Denver to NYC cost $11.
– 8,000 cars and 144 miles of paved roads. Max speed limit in most cities was 10 mph.
– Average wage was 22 cents per hour. Average worker $200-$400 per year.
– 95 percent of all births took place at home. 90% doctors had no college education
– Sugar cost 4 cents a pound, eggs 14 cents a dozen and coffee was 15 cents a pound.
– Most women washed their hair once a month with borax or egg yolks for shampoo.
– 2 of every 10 adults couldn’t read or write. Only 6 percent graduated high school.
– Marijuana, heroin, and morphine were all available over the counter at the local drugstore including Bayer’s heroin, Metcalf coca wine, opium for asthma, cocaine tablets and drops.

All of a sudden everyday simple things mean a lot more. Just a few minutes ago I made a roundtrip to the kitchen where I flipped on the lights to get another cup of coffee from my automatic coffee maker, then moved the hallway furnace thermostat up a couple of degrees and stopped for a bathroom pit stop on my way back to my office. Very quickly Victorian life seems very challenging and difficult as compared to now. Already being eleven years past the average life expectancy of 100 years it is impossible not to stumble across gratitude for the time my life is being lived.

The good old days are never as good as they are reminisced to be…NOT EVER!  Time has a way of hiding away the jagged and sharp edges while keeping mostly the smooth and inviting parts.  Frequently what passes as common fact is actually only myth. Instead of wishing for what is long past, I choose instead to be grateful for the time of my life. One day, many will look back and wish they could have lived in my here and now.

In daily life we must see that it is not happiness that makes us grateful,
but gratefulness that makes us happy.
Brother David Steindl-Rast

Right Outside Your Door

/ James Browning / 3 Comments

Life unfolds in the present. But so often, we let the present slip away, allowing time to rush past unobserved and unseized, and squandering the precious seconds of our lives as we worry about the future and ruminate about what’s past. “We’re living in a world that contributes in a major way to mental fragmentation, disintegration, distraction, decoherence,” says Buddhist scholar B. Alan Wallace. We’re always doing something, and we allow little time to practice stillness and calm.

When we’re at work, we fantasize about being on vacation; on vacation, we worry about the work piling up on our desks. We dwell on intrusive memories of the past or fret about what may or may not happen in the future. We don’t appreciate the living present because our “monkey minds,” as Buddhists call them, vault from thought to thought like monkeys swinging from tree to tree.

Most of us don’t undertake our thoughts in awareness. Rather, our thoughts control us. “Ordinary thoughts course through our mind like a deafening waterfall,” writes Jon Kabat-Zinn, the biomedical scientist who introduced meditation into mainstream medicine. In order to feel more in control of our minds and our lives, to find the sense of balance that eludes us, we need to step out of this current, to pause, and, as Kabat-Zinn puts it, to “rest in stillness—to stop doing and focus on just being.”

We need to live more in the moment. Living in the moment—also called mindfulness—is a state of active, open, intentional attention on the present. When you become mindful, you realize that you are not your thoughts; you become an observer of your thoughts from moment to moment without judging them. Mindfulness involves being with your thoughts as they are, neither grasping at them nor pushing them away. Instead of letting your life go by without living it, you awaken to experience.   From a “Psychology Today” article By Jay Dixit November 01, 2008 link

“True Joy” by M. Jolynn Rawson-Hunt
I’ll be happy once I’ve done this certain thing.
We all say this often not realizing what it brings.
We look only to the future for our happiness.
Letting life slip through our fingers in its fullness.
Will we really feel complete when the task is done,
or look back and see how we missed so much fun?
Self consumed so we can’t see anything else,
hurting those we love as well as ourselves.
So many things around us to be grateful for,
when seeking for an answer willingly open the door.
So often, others see what’s in front of our face,
but we’re too blind to look as we’re snared in the race.
What is this life supposed to be about?
Is it money, fortune, fame, or a big house?
When speaking to a man on his dying bed,
none of these answers are what he said.
Family, love, laughter are what we should seek.
These are the precious things right outside your door.

Trying to be fully present in the “now” is a battle regularly fought and I am grateful for any reminder that brings me more fully to “this moment”.  Frequently I drift into the “stinkin’ thinkin'” about the past or present, but find more quickly than ever I can snap back into the now.  All I have to do is be mindful of what I am doing and reset myself.  I am grateful for the path I have walked and am still on, that moves me ever so slowly to being more and more fully present in the “now”.

Waste not fresh tears over old grief’s.
Euripides

To Go Somewhere Without Moving

/ James Browning

Pressed for time with the hour or so unavailable I usually spend on “Good Morning Gratitude” included here today are two favorite love letters. One by a man who was President written to a woman almost as well-known (President Ronald Reagan to Nancy Reagan); another by a woman known only by a single name (Maribella) to someone completely unknown. Open your heart and feel the love.

Letter #1

Dear First Lady,

I know tradition has it that on this morning I place cards Happy Anniversary cards on your breakfast tray. But things are somewhat mixed up. I substituted a gift & delivered it a few weeks ago.

Still this is the day; the day that marks 31 years of such happiness as comes to few men. I told you once that it was like an adolescent’s dream of what marriage should be like. That hasn’t changed.

You know I love the ranch but these last two days made it plain I only love it when you are there. Come to think of it that’s true of every place & every time. When you aren’t there I’m no place, just lost in time & space.

I more than love you; I’m not whole without you. You are life itself to me. When you are gone I’m waiting for you to return so I can start living again.

Happy Anniversary & thank you for 31 wonderful years. I love you.

Your Grateful Husband

Letter #2

Darling,

We have gone through many hard times together. We have been through the difficulties of our relationship and we even came to a point of almost losing each other because we got tired of each other’s weaknesses and shortcomings.

I thank God; we were able to make things right between the two of us. We learned how to deal our differences in a proper way. We learned to listen to each other and we became sensitive to each other’s needs.

Now look at the two of us, we are still here and getting stronger as time goes by. We are enjoying each other’s company and making each day special by showing our love and care in a very special way.

Sometimes, when I come to think of what we have been through before and how we have dealt our problems. I cannot help myself but to laugh at it because we were like children fighting over petty things and made it such a very big deal until it blown out of proportion.

However, I am very thankful ’cause we have grown so much. We have become more mature in handling our faults and our shortcomings. It would have been my greatest mistake if I did let you go and let go of our love.

I promise to continue to love you more each day.

Maribella

I am grateful for a mind that can conceive words together to express loving sentiment and the ability to write them down. I am thankful for the love letters of others who touch my heart, inspire my mind and remind me of the multifaceted angles of loving another.

To send a letter is a good way to go somewhere
without moving anything but your heart.
Phyllis Theroux

Beauty Seen Is Never Lost

/ James Browning

Last year near sundown the day after Christmas I witnessed an incredible sunset. This morning something I wrote about that stunning spectacle just hours after witnessing it was discovered.  Through one good photograph taken with my phone while driving and the four paragraphs below, he beautiful memory is fully awake within this morning. 

It is late afternoon and near the end of a 750 miles road trip.  My friend and I are heading to visit my son in Boulder and are about 50 miles outside Denver, Colorado.  The mountains are due west directly in front of us.
 
Near the horizon in front and on both sides of my car, a spectacular display of wind shaped clouds is underway.  Strips of shredded yellow torn from clouds fill the sky almost to the horizon.  Above, the depth of the reds is so striking it appears surreal. The light of the ending day strongly accents the long furrows in the clouds enriching the reds and yellows as the clouds evolve and change in the wind. 
 
The wind is strong and the clouds are changing quickly.  To the south, long thin strips of red have been blown and tangled together.  A large oblong cloud without noticeable texture lies just above.  To the north there is less light from the fading sun and darkness is reaching there first. 
 
Within only a few minutes the sun has become a large half-circle directly in front view.  The big red ball is fast disappearing; turning the sky a deeper and deeper burgundy as the sun’s departure nears completion.

Sunsets happen every day and probably because they are so common people hardly notice the beauty of them most of the time.  On-line I found a short piece written by Kimbaline Navas of Ft.Collins, Colorado. The feeling she writes about of a sundown over water describes near perfectly how the memory of my late December sunset touches me. 

I close my eyes and I can vision my sunset laid across the water with clouds gently placed on top. 

The yellow is so bright that it consumes my thoughts I fall deeper into the colors of the sun so that I could touch the orange glow; what a soft feeling; my sunset.

My sunset takes me to another place and time where there will be no problem too tall to overcome. This vision is imbedded in my mind; it is like a river running free; a clear thought on a sunny day and it ends with my sunset and me.

My sunset frees my thoughts from confusion; it leads me to believe that I am on top of the world; setting me free to scourer over the waters of my mind.

My sunset places me in a part of heaven where the day comes to an end with the beauty of my sunset.

From John Greenleaf Whittier’s 1876 poem “Sunset On The Bearcamp”:
…beauty seen is never lost,
God’s colors all are fast;
The glory of this sunset heaven
Into my soul has passed,
A sense of gladness unconfined
To mortal date or clime;
As the soul liveth, it shall live
Beyond the years of time.

…I shall see a summer sun
Still setting broad and low;
The mountain slopes shall blush and bloom,
The golden water flow.
A lover’s claim is mine on all
I see to have and hold,–
The rose-light of perpetual hills,
And sunsets never cold!

Whittier expresses a gratitude that I find to be a near match for the thankfulness felt for the sunsets I remember, especially my cherished Colorado sundown of a few months ago. 

Everybody needs beauty as well as bread,
Places to play in and pray in,
Where nature may heal
And give strength to body and soul.
John Muir

Myself Grandly Related

/ James Browning

This weekend spending time in a cabin off the beaten path surrounded by nature, I have once again been reminded of the positive effects the natural world can have. When something is referred to as “primitive”, thoughts of being unfinished and rough are conjured. In the civilized world we value refinement and luxury and view nature as coarse and harsh.  Yet being in the woods it is clear that nature is exquisitely finished and luxurious, while it is “I” who severely lacks finish and refinement. 

The longer away from nature and the less time spent in the natural world, the greater my distance becomes from reality and from my self.  Rabbi Jamie S. Korngold describes this in “God in the Wilderness” when she writes removed from the distractions of everyday life, of cell phones, emails, and to-do lists, we are able to immerse ourselves fully in the moment, in each step, in each breath. As we leave behind the safety of homes and cars, and we step fully into the wilderness to meet nature, we also meet ourselves. As we look outward to the wilderness, we look inward and reawaken to what is essential in our lives, to the core of our being.”

Nature’s presence lends me a healthy perspective in relation to my place in the world.  Out in the woods the reminder is clear that I am just a part of a never-ending cycle of being and passing.  Among the trees, above the lake the wind yanks my thinking from inside dancing with my ego to an external awareness of my perfect fit in the order of things.  Rabbi Korngold described the cure nature can have:  sometimes it takes the stark wilderness to help us face our truth and become our true selves.

Being in nature reminds me that I am not the center of the universe and in fact, am just journeying through in a short finite period of time.  It is a wonderfully humbling experience.  Henry David Thoreau wrote, in the streets and in society I am almost invariably cheap and dissipated, my life is unspeakably mean.  No amount of gold or respectability would in the least redeem it… But alone in the distant woods or fields, in unpretending sprout-lands or pastures tracked by rabbits, even in a bleak and, to most, cheerless day… I come to myself, I once more feel myself grandly related… 

This weekend nature did not fix me.  Rather, nature brought me back to center so I could hear and feel myself.  For moments, minutes and sometimes more out with the trees and rocks I am able to stand in symphony with myself in a type of harmony that is not possible in the city.  And in that song of myself I am able to just relax and “be”.    

Every life is a book of secrets, ready to be opened. The secret of perfect love is found there, along with the secrets of healing, compassion, faith, and the most elusive one of all: who we really are. We are still mysteries to ourselves, despite the proximity of these answers, and what we most long to know remains lodged deep inside.  We all want to know how to find a soul mate, what career would be most fulfilling, how to live a life with meaning, and how to teach our children well. We are looking for a personal breakthrough, a turning point, a revelation that brings with it new meaning. (The Book of Secrets by Deepak Chopra) 

There are always little breakthroughs when I spend time with Mother Nature.  I am grateful for the reminder that all my possessions will someday pass to someone else.  Even then decay and time will take their place in returning those things to Nature from which they come.  Even faster I will pass from flesh and blood back to the water and dust I am made of.  In nature one can see what is real and factual more than any other place.

Just a little reminder, a small wakeup call gets my gratitude this morning.  It is as if “Mother Earth” spoke to me in an unheard voice reminding me to be a little more aware of life and of its importance; to notice how fragile and temporary my existence is.  The insight makes me feel alive, awake and aware in a near divine experience this morning.  With humble gratitude all I know to do is to say “thank you”.

Only when the last river has been polluted,
and the last tree been cut down,
and the last fish been caught,
will we realise we cannot eat money.
Native American Cree saying

The Chance of a Lifetime

/ James Browning

A picture can truly say a thousand words.
A handful of words accompanied by a ten photos speaks volumes more.

“A New Day” by Walterrean Salley
It’s a new day
Another chance to discover
And rediscover
And make changes
And enjoy life.

 A chance to reach out.
A chance to hold on
To the things that are dear.

It’s a new day
Another opportunity.
A chance to live

And love
And laugh
The chance of a lifetime

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A New Day” by Dr. Heartsill Wilson

This is the beginning of a new day.
I have been given this day to use as I will.
I can waste it, or use it.

I can make it a day long to be remembered for its joy,
its beauty and its achievements,
or it can be filled with pettiness.

What I do today is important because I am exchanging a day of my life for it.

 When tomorrow comes this day will be gone forever,
but I shall hold something which I have traded for it.

It may be no more than a memory,
but if it is a worthy one I shall not regret the price.

 I want it to be gain not loss, good not evil, success not failure.

Before today I have lived 21,390 days.  This morning another is added to that total with greater gratitude within for life than in any previous day.

We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.
Cynthia Ozick

A Music Bath Once or Twice a Week

/ James Browning / 2 Comments

Sold out show.
Ear plugs very necessary.
Lots of twenty-something’s.
Piercing and tats on parade.
Loud, very loud and even louder.
Some probably not more than 15.
More girls and women than boys and men.
Well over a thousand people grooving together.
Bass so deep it made coins in my pocket vibrate.
Twirling lightsticks and bodies moving rhythmically.
The floor bobbing up and down with the steady beat.
Some stripped to bare minimum due to sweat from dancing.
Melodic patterns of cool electronic music and dazzling lights.
DJ Excision in concert at Cain’s Ballroom, 2/21/2012 Tulsa,Oklahoma

Music of any sort can tie people of any age together.  When its good enough to make the listeners’ bodies move without thought how old one is does not exist.  Fifteen and fifty year olds have at such a moment more in common than probably at most any other time.  And there I was last night with my almost thirty year old son listening to a “famous for the moment” electronic Disc Jockey who calls himself “Excision”.  The two of us and a mass of a thousand or so were moving to the beat systematically in mass almost like one giant heart beating;  a cool experience!

I am grateful to work in a profession directly related to music and to have been involved up close with concerts and the artists for over three decades.  Music has kept me young in spirit.  There is no issue with me having a conversation with an eighteen year old about music and finding we likely have a good bit in common about what we like musically.  Likewise, talking to a peer who lived during the classic rock from the 70’s there is no problem finding commonalities in what we liked.  Any anywhere in between is the same and it’s also true across genres of music as well.

I truly am lucky to be living a life that can put me comfortably with those my age and at the same time with those young enough to be my grandchildren.  Being by far the oldest person at some shows on a regular basis I am amused by the looks I get.  Some make eye contact and gesture in a way that says “It’s awesome that someone your age is here”.   Of course, once in a while at a concert I find myself looking back at a young’un whose expression expresses clearly their surprise seeming to say “what are you doing here?  Are you lost?”  I just smile and think to myself, I hope you stay contemporary enough to do what I doing and enjoy yourself one day like I am tonight.

Without counting, all I can do is guess at the number but I believe there are tickets for seven or eight concerts and shows clipped on my fridge.   Some people watch lots of TV.  Some spend time playing video games.  Others give ample spare time to playing or watching sports.  Hobbies soak up time available for some folks.  Other than being with those I care about for me its music, music, music and books, books, books that the majority of my spare time is given to (movies too).  My parents always had records or the radio going from the time I can remember and there are pickers, players and singers scattered around my family.  My music interest may well come from genetics even more than my formative environment.  Where ever it comes from, I am blessed to be able to “feel” and enjoy music as much as I do.  Some time back while living for close to a year outside the country with few personal belongings other than clothes I found I really missed only two things:  my books and my music.

This morning I am grateful to have a grown son who still likes to visit his Dad frequently.  We have much the same tastes in music and there is no one’s company I enjoy more.  Much thankfulness is within for my love of music and for it to be a common ground with my boy!

Take a music bath once or twice a week for a few seasons.
You will find it is to the soul what a water bath is to the body.
Oliver Wendell Holmes