Little Rays of Pitch Black

Third Winchester Battlefield Park

Mon, 08 May 2023 16:37:02 GMT

Third Winchester Battlefield Park

The Third Battle of Winchester, also known as the Battle of Opequon Creek, fought on September 19, 1864, was one of the hardest fought battles of the Civil War. Around 9,000 men were killed in a single day. Both future Presidents Rutherford B. Hayes and William McKinley, as well as Col. George S. Patton' (whose grandson would later garner his own battlefield recognition in WW2), fought here.

A sign close to a bench overlooking the creek tells me that Hayes led the charge across Red Bud Run, where his horse got stuck in the mud while trying to cross, forcing Hayes to get down and crawl on hands and knees, reaching the other side alone.

This was the first battle utilizing cavalry, artillery, and infantry all at once, and as I walked the trail up and down the hills, I imagined all the men and horses and cannons that would have been there that day and the absolute chaos and noise that would have reigned. Blood. Sweat. Shouting. Mud. Steel. Cannon fire.

Now it is quiet, except for all the sounds and activity of the wildlife. A sign on the trail describes all the birds you might see. Honeysuckle is everywhere, its sweet smell hanging in the air. Deep onto one of the trails under the shade of all the tree overhang, a rabbit scared me to death jumping out of my way and plowing its little escape through the brush. Three cannons sit silently atop the slight hill in the middle of the battlefield. A huge deer crossed the path in front of me on the battlefield, stopping to stare at me before bounding away across the same field where cannonballs would have been flying left and right 159 years ago.

The first time I drove past this place, I was on my way to somewhere else, it was pitch black, and somehow I still knew it was a battlefield. I could just feel it, which I admit sounds incredibly weird. I am not a hippie-dippy person, but I guess as Michael Scott says, "I'm not superstitious, but I am a little stitious," and I'm not sure I believe that places where so much death and destruction occur in such concentrated amounts are ever cleansed of that entirely, no matter how much time passes.

At any rate, the eerie juxtaposition between this beautiful now-park and its history aside, I encourage you to check it out if you're ever in the area, both for the views and the historical knowledge.

Home

Sun, 23 Apr 2023 02:55:36 GMT

Home

East Mountain Drive.

Calle San Jorge.

Seminary Road.

Avenue A.

And on and on and on.

For most of my life -- and certainly all my adult life -- whenever anyone has asked me where I'm from, I never know what to say. Do they mean most recently? Where I was born? Where I've spent most of my time? This is usually the first or second question people ask you after first meeting, so usually you have about three seconds to decide how in depth of an answer to give and whether they really want to know or if they were just making light conversation and didn't really care about the details in the first place.

At any rate, it's an odd feeling not to know the answer, and it's an odd feeling to want to go home and not be sure where that is. While it may be becoming increasingly rare, it's hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that some people are born, live, and die all within a circle on the map with maybe a two hour radius. There are times I've been jealous of that. They know where they're from. They have friends they've had their entire lives that are still in their lives. I am used to people cycling in and out of mine. The average is about 4 or 5 years before I eventually lose touch with them completely (although social media has changed that somewhat), and sometimes that's not a bad thing, to be honest.

Google maps does make it easy to revisit your old homes. I got a bit emotional "driving" (via Gmaps) around my old neighborhood in Mexico and seeing all the changes, remembering being a kid there, knowing that some of the friends I had there are dead now, and I don't know where the rest are.

I guess home is where you know you can return at any time and be loved, be yourself, be at peace. I think I'm still looking for it, but I've gotten a whole lot closer in the past month or two.

These pictures are all from around my new "home."

The Year

Mon, 19 Dec 2022 23:29:01 GMT

The Year

"What can be said in New Year rhymes,
That’s not been said a thousand times?
The new years come, the old years go,
We know we dream, we dream we know.
We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.
We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.
We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our brides, we sheet our dead.
We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that’s the burden of the year."

~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox, The Year

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from Rosie (I'm sure she'd agree) and me.

The Most Exciting Sounds in the World

Wed, 07 Dec 2022 23:05:35 GMT

The Most Exciting Sounds in the World

Just before George Bailey's life is upended in It's a Wonderful Life (one of my very favorite movies), he says, "You know what the three most exciting sounds in the world are? Anchor chains, airplane motors, and train whistles."

I have to agree...although I think I would add hot air balloon burners in there as well.

I am ever so gradually inching closer to being able to enjoy all of these with a lot more frequency, and I. cannot. wait.

Tiny Joys

Mon, 31 Oct 2022 21:53:35 GMT

Tiny Joys

O. Henry, master of the surprise ending and one of my favorite authors, once wrote:

"You can't appreciate home until you've left it, money till it's spent, your wife till she's joined a women's club, nor Old Glory till you see it hanging on a broomstick on the shanty of a consul in a foreign town."

Plenty has been written about gratitude and being thankful. An article by Harvard Health cited a study by two psychologists who divided a study group into three categories: one who wrote about things they were thankful for, one who wrote about things that irritated them, and one who wrote about things affecting them with no positive or negative emphasis. Unsurprisingly, the first group was found, at the end of 10 weeks, to be more optimistic and even in better health than the others.

Another study in 2008 found that " gratitude causes synchronized activation in multiple brain regions, and lights up parts of the brain’s reward pathways and the hypothalamus. In short, gratitude can boost neurotransmitter serotonin and activate the brain stem to produce dopamine," which is the brain's pleasure chemical.

Thankfulness, among plenty of other things, is something I'm currently working on in my own life. I find that I have a tendency to be focused on overcoming a perceived negative instead of shifting that focus to all the things that are going right at the moment. Like the O. Henry quote, sometimes we're not aware of how good things are until things change or something forces us to readjust our focus. Since I'd rather recount my blessings while I still have them and since thankfulness should be found in even in the smallest of joys, I wrote a list of "tiny joys," very small (and I do mean very small ) things that make me feel happy.

- the feel of freshly laundered socks

- the perfectness of a newly mowed lawn

- the smell of chocolate chip cookies baking

- when your dog cuddles up next to you and sighs

- the perfect music for a soundtrack on a sunny afternoon car drive

- the quiet stillness of the middle of a briskly, cold night

- laughing until you cry and your stomach hurts

- dressing perfectly appropriate for the weather, neither too hot nor cold

- when your plant sprouts a flower or a new leaf

- arriving perfectly on time to an appointment

- receiving a text from someone you were just thinking about

- the first time you see progress toward a goal you've been working for

- sleeping deeply the entire night

- a full gas tank and the feeling you could go anywhere at a moment's notice

- watching movies in a chilly room under a soft, fuzzy blanket

- receiving a package you've been waiting for

- seeing the difference between before and after pictures

- having dinner with someone you love

- fast forwarding through commercials and stopping exactly as your show starts again

- when someone else's pet likes you

- warm chili on a cold day

- looking at pictures that remind you of fantastic times

- waking up in time to see a sunrise

- perfectly comfortable clothes that also make you look good

- being inside, warm and dry, during a thunderstorm

These might seem silly, but I am working at taking time to enjoy the small things in life, paying attention to even the tiniest of blessings that I've been given, and being grateful. If it helps to rewire my brain and make me a happier person in the process, all the better! What would you add to the list?

La Sal del Rey

Mon, 24 Oct 2022 16:39:59 GMT

La Sal del Rey

Originally, I intended this blog to incorporate some pictures of cool places I've been. One of the few places I've been able to go lately is La Sal del Rey, a salt lake in near Edinburg, Texas. Most of the pictures on my "About Me" page are from there, including the one of Lucy to the left.

La Sal del Rey is a lake in South Texas, about 20 miles north of Edinburg. Salt mining has been going on there since the Native Americans, then the Spanish, and it later became an important source of salt in the Civil War, so forth and so on, hence the name, which literally means "The Salt of the King." The lake sits on about 4 million tons of salt and is 4 times saltier than average seawater. When the lake is low enough, you can actually walk out onto it. I was hoping to be able to do that and get some cool pictures, but it had rained recently, so, fortunately for the area and unfortunately for me, the water levels were too high.

The lake is located within the Lower Rio Grande Valley National Wildlife Refuge, and so you're likely to see all kind of animal tracks if not animals themselves, including ocelot, javelina, deer, etc. The lake is about a mile and a half walk in from the parking lot, and Lucy's little legs tired out pretty quickly, so she ended up taking the trip in my backpack.

Once we reached the lake, it was an eerie feeling. Everything was dead silent and still, and there was no one or thing as far as the eye could see, except some birds that flew overhead occasionally. It was like being in some weird alternate universe, or a scene from a video game. There were all kinds of tracks from all kinds of animals, both small and disturbingly large, in the soft dirt leading up to the lakeshore, but the shore itself was entirely made of salt crystals.

After hanging out for awhile, the sun began to set, and as I did not relish walking a mile and a half in the dark in a wildlife refuge, we headed back to the car.

About halfway back, we encountered a herd of javelina that were crossing the path. A few of them stood their ground and stared at us in the path, the bristles on their back standing up, while the rest watched from the brush beside the trail. I was at that point super glad that Lucy was in my backpack. Having heard how vicious they can be, we grabbed some sticks and brought the mace out of my backpack. Thankfully, we didn't have to use either, as they eventually scampered back into the woods. We managed to hurriedly cross before the rest of the herd decided to use the same path. From a distance, I got a very grainy picture of the herd crossing once we'd passed.

I'd never seen a lake like that, so I think it's definitely worth a trip back, but I would probably make sure to go earlier in the day!

Remembering Daniel

Fri, 21 Oct 2022 01:43:21 GMT

October 20, 2022

Remembering Daniel

"Will you come back and see me?" Daniel asked.

In my mind, I can still see his face. It's burned in my memory, his brown eyes so dark they were almost black…and with a sort of sadness in them.

"I have 50 years. I'll be here."

He couldn't have been more than 18 years old. Daniel was an inmate in the prison in Monclova, Coahuila, Mexico, directly across the border from Eagle Pass, Texas. I spent a lot of time visiting Mexican prisons back in the day, and since Daniel's sentence was so long and Mexico at the time did not have a death penalty outside of the military, I assumed (but of course did not ask) that he was incarcerated for murder. (The guy next to him at the time of our conversation I know for certain was in for homicide.)

This tall, polite kid.

It was hard for me to imagine that he could have messed up so badly that he was destined to spend the rest of his life in those walls. I have thought of him numerous times over the years, as I go through different stages of my life. Since that visit, I've gone to college, gone to law school, practiced law for five different firms, moved sooo many times, bought my house, welcomed new members of my family in a sister-in-law, adopted brother, niece, nephew.

All that time…years and years and years.

The prison in Monclova has changed several times since that visit, new ones being built and then abandoned, so I have no way of knowing where Daniel is now. I didn't even know his last name. But if he's still alive, he's somewhere behind bars…still.

Daniel's tragic story of a life wasted and opportunity squandered makes me think of other ways we waste our lives. It's easy to fall into a routine way of thinking that life is always ahead. We make plans of what we'll do in the future after we get through what's in front of us right now. "When I get through with school, then my life will start." "When I graduate with my degree, then life will start." "When I get married….when I have kids….when I get this new job…..when I retire"….and on and on and on.

I could die before I finish writing this sentence. We're not guaranteed tomorrow. There's a verse in the Bible that talks about our lives being like a vapor….smoke that we can see for a moment that then drifts away, vanishing into nothingness, as if it never existed. I've always found it particularly poignant that we can have so many antiques -- clothes, personal belongings, houses -- that belonged to people who have been dead for centuries. Somehow it seems unfair that their things, which are not important, last so much longer than the people themselves, who were loved and valued and incredibly important to someone in their lifetime but now are like that smoke that floated away. It doesn't seem right that I can hold a piece of jewelry in my hand that was once the prized possession of some woman from years gone by whose name I'll never know. Her stuff is here; she is not. This will be the fate of all of us if the world lasts long enough. A few generations from now, if that long, no one will know or care who I was. Life passes so fast.

I am not advocating that we all quit our jobs and gather into a group commune to paint and sculpt and suck the juices out of life in some hippie dippie, irresponsible, fashion, (though if that's your thing, go for it.) There's nothing wrong with having life goals and buckling down to work toward those. That's the responsible thing to do. Hard work is good. It's when we don't take the time to enjoy life WHILE all this other stuff is happening that it becomes a problem. When we postpone the good stuff because we think we'll have time later. You won't. You'll never get this time back. Your youth and good health are not indefinite.

There is a balance. Some people "enjoy" life so much that they never manage to accomplish anything meaningful with their talents or time, and that is just as much a waste. To have frittered your time away on earth wasting your potential is just as much a sin. For the first group, however, I realize we all can't drop what we're doing and go on month-long trips to Europe. But we can take time to enjoy life at the measure we're enabled to, even in -- particularly -- the small things.

Someone said life is what happens when you're busy making other plans. I think life is what happens while you're waiting for it to start. I read an article recently about palliative nurse Bronnie Ware, who wrote a book about her terminal patients and their biggest regrets, called "The Top Five Regrets of the Dying." Those top five regrets were as follows:

I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
I wish I didn't work so hard.
I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings.
I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
I wish that I had let myself be happier.

A couple of those regrets resonate with me. Being goal-oriented and determined, I've been as guilty as anyone in taking my time for granted. I spent years furthering my education and passing up opportunities to hang out with friends or explore the city I was in, missing chances to experience new places and things because I could do all of that "later." Sometimes I've missed opportunities just because I was waiting for someone to do them with me. In the past, I've given in to others' expectations of me. I don't want to get to the end of my life and think of all the things I could have done. I want to grow, to go places I've never been, to continue learning and working on myself as a person, to gather more skills, to be...better.

Lutheran theologian Robert H Smith wrote a poem about the "clock of time."

"The clock of time is wound but once,

And no man has the power

To tell just when the hands will stop

At late or early hour.

To lose one's wealth is sad indeed,

To lose one's health is more,

To lose one's soul is such a loss

That no man can restore

The present only is our own,

So live, love, toil with a will,

Place no faith in "Tomorrow,"

For the Clock may then be still."

Stop hanging out with people who are wasting your time playing games. Stop putting off spending meaningful time with your kids. Stop waiting for someone else to join you in things you want to do. Stop postponing taking the trips you've always wanted to take. Stop coming up with excuses for why you can't take steps to enjoy your life and make it meaningful now, in whatever fashion that takes and however small those steps may be.

If it sounds like I'm desperately preaching, it's as much for myself as anyone else. Teddy Roosevelt and British rock band the Struts don't have very much in common except maybe their opinions on how to live life:

Teddy Roosevelt: "Let us run the risk of wearing out than rusting out."

The Struts: "Don't wanna live as an untold story. Rather go out in a blaze of glory."

While these two may have very different ideas on what that means specifically, I plan on taking both their advice to the furthest extent humanly possible. Because I know at least one person who'll never have the chances I've been given.

I still remember Daniel.

Pictures of Egypt

Mon, 17 Oct 2022 05:03:05 GMT

October 16, 2022

Pictures of Egypt

I've been painting pictures of Egypt

Leaving out what it lacks

The future feels so hard

And I want to go back

But the places that used to fit me

Cannot hold the things I've learned

Those roads were closed off to me

While my back was turned.

The lyrics to this 2001 song by Sara Groves spell out everything that's wrong with nostalgia. " Painting Pictures of Egypt " is based on the biblical story of the Israelites' 40 years in the wilderness as they made their way to the Promised Land. At one point in their seemingly unending quest for the Land of Milk and Honey, they complained to Moses about the manna they were receiving and lamented how they missed the food they had in Egypt -- the meat, cucumbers, melons, etc. Of course, missing from their fond reminiscence was the fact that back in Egypt they had been slaves. Talk about a gap in memory.

But memories are like that. The further we get away from a situation, the harder it is sometimes to recall all the negative experiences from the past. Instead, the perceived positives, however few and far between they were at the time, float to the top and sit in the light, demanding focus.

The Welsh have a word for this sense of nostalgia combined with loss -- hiraeth . Apparently the idea encapsulated in this word is not easily translated into English, but "it combines elements of homesickness, nostalgia and longing . Interlaced, however, is the subtle acknowledgment of an irretrievable loss – a unique blend of place, time and people that can never be recreated. This unreachable nature adds an element of grief, but somehow it is not entirely unwelcome."

I was going through some old photos recently, and when I came upon the picture at the top of this post (which is actually not a picture of Egypt), I was struck with my own sense of nostalgia. The picture isn't much to look at, but I distinctly remember the moments in which I took that photo. It was two days after Christmas and I had just gotten home after a 6 hour trip driving back from visiting family for the holidays. It was snowing in Central Texas and that was what I was trying to capture in that photo, however unsuccessfully. I remember the cold, the quiet, the darkness, the sense of being almost home after a long trip, the excitement at seeing these rare, baby snow flurries. I was living in a tiny town, had a group of great friends, and was doing a job I liked. Just as sudden, while looking at that picture, I then remembered that everything wasn't perfect at the time either. I was nearing the end of a frustrating on-again, off-again apathetic relationship, and I'd gained a bunch of weight emotionally eating as a result. And not too long after, I'd be faced with uncertainty regarding both my living situation and my employment, leaving me with no idea what the next step was or where I would be even months later.

Our memories are not nearly as reliable as we'd hope. According to the Constitutional Rights Foundation, studies have shown that mistaken eyewitness testimony accounts for about half of wrongful convictions. In undergrad, one of my professors told of an experiment he used to conduct in class. He would have a colleague run in and "hold up" the class in a pretend robbery. After the thief had fled, he'd explain that he needed descriptions to turn into the police from all the class members. The descriptions the students submitted were incredibly varied as to the weapon, the clothing, and the physical description of the assailant. Most of them got it wrong. (Incidentally, my professor said he had to stop doing this experiment after one of the students once tackled the fake offender.) Whether we'd like to admit it or not, our memories are fallible, especially when accompanied with stress, fear, or other high emotion. Sometimes it's just the details that are fuzzy, sometimes the big picture.

Trauma can also affect memory. Scientists believe that our brains actively work to protect us from traumatic experiences. Instead of storing these bad memories in easily accessible places where normal memories are kept, our brains activate a different system and store memories in places that make them harder for us to recall.

Forgetting the bad we've been through isn't always a positive. Sometimes memories like this keep us safe. It's how we learn. Remembering the times we've been burned makes us more careful around fire. Once after a particularly bad relationship, I actually made a list of all the reasons I ended it, so, if tempted to go back or if experiencing a lapse in memory, I could re-read alllll the reasons that was a terrible idea. It worked.

It's only natural to reminisce about the past. The further we get, the more of it there is to think about! Remembering it accurately and being honest in our heads about what really happened -- to the extent our brains will let us, apparently -- is what's important. I know sometimes I've wished I could go back to a time when, looking back from the future, I felt things were much better than they are in present day. Maybe before making a certain decision, meeting a certain person, or making a certain move. Like the Sara Groves song says, sometimes the places you long for the most are the places where you've been. But being stuck there is a disability. Arrested development is more than just a TV show. You can't grow as a person if you don't move. You can't un-learn your lessons or un-know the truth, even if you choose to ignore them for a time. And once you've moved on, as the song says, the places that used to fit you can't hold what you've learned; that door was closed behind you while your back was turned.

On Being the Sidekick

Fri, 14 Oct 2022 18:16:40 GMT

October 14, 2022

On Being the Sidekick

Pete Nolan in Rawhide .

Tim Gutterson in Justified .

Cam Delray in Jack Irish .

Dembe in The Blacklist .

These are all sidekicks that at times I've found more engaging than the protagonists they support. The number 2 man who, for some reason, draws my attention away from the hero. The steady, dependable friend who always comes through in a pinch, with unwavering loyalty, a witty quip or two, and exactly equipped for whatever the necessity of the moment demands in his support of the hero on his way to save the day. I never understood why that fascination or attraction was there until I did some reading up on my personality type.

I am, according to 16personalities.com, an ISFJ -- a personality type they've labelled the Defender. As I was scrolling through the personality results, on the bottom of the page they have listed other people and characters from films and books who have your same personality type. Kate Middleton, Beyonce, Vin Diesel, Selena Gomez….Samwise Gamgee, Dr. Watson…. waaiiit.

In undergrad, I was a research assistant to a couple professors in the Political Science Department, assisting one with the research and writing of a paper and, for the other, running his call center from which we conducted telephone surveys concerning social and political questions he and others were researching. One day, one of the professors was leaving and he asked me to send him some files so he would have them when he got to his destination. I told him I had already done so. He thanked me, walked away, then turned around and came back: "Regina, do you know who Radar is? On M.A.S.H.? The guy who anticipates what everyone will need and handles it before they even ask? You're our Radar."

After reading that online profile, it finally clicked that maybe I admire sidekicks because, in some respects, that's the role I relate to best. I have always felt more complete, in my personal life as well as at work, when I can provide valuable assistance to others. I consider myself a worker bee as opposed to a queen, and if I'm able to make my boss look good by being prepared and making sure that all the boxes are checked, the T's crossed and the I's dotted, then I've fulfilled my purpose. It gives me joy to make the lives of those I love easier. Nothing makes me happier than to anticipate the needs of those people I care about and help meet them even before they ask. There's a certain level of observation skills necessary to be able to do this, and it's quite satisfying when you're successful.

The danger in this is carrying your "helpfulness" too far and stepping into territory where you're not wanted. Sometimes with those same powers of observation, you're able to tell -- or at least you feel like you're able to tell -- what you perceive as good for a person while they opt to go in another direction. In order not to be a self-righteous, overbearing nag, the best thing is to let that person figure out their mistake, if that's indeed what it is, for themselves. It's not my job to change people's minds about their own wants or make sure other adults are making wise choices by offering my unsolicited opinions. It's hard to see someone you love mess up and go down a road you know in your heart, from watching all the factors at play from the outside, will only cause them pain in the end. After all, I've learned a few things in my time on earth, both from my own experiences and watching others, and sometimes the future is astonishingly easy to predict. That said, if your real and honest desire is to help and not to control, you have to take a step back, provide your advice only when asked for, hope for the best, and be prepared to be supportive once the pieces land, if they do. And too, you could always be wrong, despite how earnest your conviction.

This has been a hard lesson for me to learn in the past. I am straightforward and bluntly honest, and sometimes I feel almost a sense of responsibility to inform others of the wrong decisions I feel they're making in their lives and how they, in my opinion, can fix them. This, I admit, is an incredibly unattractive quality when it's not requested. It's not one I would long tolerate from others in my own life, and I don't blame others for not tolerating it in theirs. It's something I have worked on in myself in the past and will continue to work on whenever it pops up again in the future.

At the end of the day, In a world where everyone is trying to be the main character, I don't think there's anything wrong with playing a supporting role. This doesn't mean you can't have dreams and goals of your own. Trust, I have plenty of those, and I'll be found dead before I'm found with any kind of "[Insert husband's profession]'s wife" t-shirts or bumper stickers. It's not about glomming on to stand in another's spotlight, combining your identity with a partner, or riding someone else's coattails while failing to accomplish anything significant on your own. It's about being dependable, the kind of friend you'd like to have, being there to support when called upon, meeting another's needs even if you costs you something, while being careful not to overstep boundaries of individuality. I believe those are the best sidekicks. The sidekicks every hero needs. The sidekicks who help make the world go 'round.

After all, where would Sherlock be without Watson?

And if you're interested in finding out more about your own personality type, check out 16personalities.com .

The Unconquerable Soul

Tue, 11 Oct 2022 02:22:32 GMT

October 10, 2022

Carlsbad Caverns, NM

The Unconquerable Soul

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley wrote Invictus in 1875 when he was 26 years old. Henley contracted tuberculosis of the bone at the age of 12, and, after suffering years of painful abscesses, this disease eventually caused him to lose a leg to amputation. As such, he was frequently sick as a child and therefore not able to attend school as much as other children. His father died when he was 19. When he moved to London around the age of 18, his attempt to establish himself as a journalist was frequently interrupted by long hospital stays, as long as three years at a time. Clearly evidenced by the fierce words of his poem, he was not to let any of that stop him in his zest for life. In fact, Henley’s friend Robert Louis Stevenson based his Treasure Island character Long John Silver on Henley, using Henley’s disability coupled with his “maimed strength and masterfulness” as a foundation for “the idea of the maimed man, ruling and dreaded by the sound.”

The resilience of the individual human is astounding. In literature and in life, we’re often presented with examples of people who have endured seemingly insurmountable pain, physical disability, heartbreak, loss, or financial failure, experiencing things that one would think would absolutely crush the life out of the average person, and yet they survive and find joy in living. My favorite example of tenacity from my favorite historical character, who himself experienced more than his share of heartbreak, is that of Teddy Roosevelt, who was so gripped by the importance of the message he wanted to deliver to a waiting campaign crowd that he continued to deliver his speech for 84 minutes after being shot in the chest.

Having not suffered either the loss of limbs or close family members like Henley and certainly not having been shot in the chest like Roosevelt, I’ve had my own bouts with failure and fear on more occasions than I’d like to recount. They have been constant roommates over the years. There have been times where I wondered how my heart still managed to beat inside my chest because the emotional pain I was enduring should surely have been enough to physically stop it. Yet it ticked on. Sometimes the thing you are most afraid of happens, and I discovered many years ago that when it does -- when you face the reality of the very thing you feared above all things -- it leaves you with nothing else to fear. At least for the moment. In that instant, your stupid, indomitable spirit (my nickname for mine) is forced to drag its bloody self up off the floor to stand on its unsteady legs, wipe the sweat and tears off its face, and keep pressing forward…because it’s already been through the worst part and survived. Failure is failure only if you leave it that way. Failure turns to success if you don't give up. I have a lot of flaws, but when it comes down to the nitty gritty (whatever that is), lack of determination is not one of them, even if it's accompanied by lots of tears.

I don’t necessarily believe that any of us ever reach that plane of happiness that the overly optimistic hope for. (Well, maybe someone’s arrived, certainly not me.) You know what I mean: the constant "things will get better," even though I've been guilty of saying the same. I’ve been an adult for a good bit now, and I’ve yet to see that nirvana reached. There will never be a time in anyone’s life where they will be without struggle of some type for long. We all have our battles. But I do believe the battles come in cycles. I don't know that things get better, but they do change, they do get different , and sometimes the different is more bearable. We learn our life lessons and, we move on to the next, hopefully wiser for the learning. And definitely stronger.

It also helps to remember that everything is temporary, and things can change on a dime. Don’t like where your life is at the moment? Change it. Be the master of fate that Henley described. I’ve never been much of a videogame player, but I do remember times as a kid playing a game and being excited about the possibilities presented by the unknown in front of me. Like, what was behind that door? Or what will I find if I go down this hallway? Life is exactly like that. Your next best friend could be behind any random door on a road that you travel every day. Your next job could be something you don't even know exists yet. While there is life there is hope. Unfortunately, unlike video games, we don’t get multiple lives to figure it out, but the one chance we do get is full of opportunities and adventure, and we should seize those.

And, like Henley, let the menace of the years find us unafraid.

Sunsets & New Beginnings

Fri, 07 Oct 2022 08:10:19 GMT

October 7, 2022

San Saba, TX

Sunsets & New Beginnings

Late afternoon has always been my favorite time of day. There is something special about the time right before the sun sets -- that golden hour of afternoon -- when the day's work is over and only a few hours are left before it's time to retire for the night. What's done is done. Indelibly carved into stone. Time you'll never get back. All that's left is to reflect, regroup, and rest before the next day starts and back into the fray you’re tossed all over again. If you're lucky and things are clear enough, at just that moment, nature explodes into ever-changing color just before everything turns to black.

Chasing sunsets and trying to take pictures that do them justice is one of my favorite things to do. Just as amazing as their beauty is the way the same daily event, the same mixture of clouds and sun and atmosphere, can paint a vastly different canvas every time.

Funnily enough, I seem to find myself reenacting that event repeatedly in my life. Picking up, heading out somewhere entirely new, only to see things end in colorful explosions stamped in my brain just before everything turns black and I must figure out what to do in the dark before starting it all over again. I've done this so many times. Signs in my life are rarely subtle. Usually when it’s time to move, things on all fronts – sometimes even my heart – shatter into a million pieces. There’s nothing left to do but sweep up what you can salvage of the wreckage and move on. Sometimes the picture at the end is beautiful, a colorful remnant of what that time gave me: the people, the places, the memories. I know when I leave that things will never be the same. I may never see some of those people or places again. People mean well, but despite best intentions once you’re out of sight, you’re usually out of mind, save for the brief texts a few times a year inquiring into each other’s well-being or the occasional social media interaction. The deep friendships and once close connections are gone. I’ve gotten used to that idea, even if it does hurt every time. I’ve chosen to look at this inevitable shift as an adventure, forgetting things that were behind and pressing toward those things ahead. Sunsets not only broadcast the end of a day; they announce that a new day is going to begin soon.

And sunrises can be just as beautiful as sunsets.