The summer of 2018 is almost over. I would have to say it has been an uneventful summer. Nothing too exciting has happened and it isn't a summer to remember. That's not to say it can't change in an instant, it certainty can. Still, I mention the passing of another summer almost as a footnote, there is an entire year to consider and two seasons yet to come. Fall and winter. The holidays approach.
Earlier this year I had a heart attack, that has been dealt with. I had a bit of a scare with cancer, that also has been dealt with, it's in the past. I don't really want to recall either of those events. Now I am required to take medication that I didn't have to take last year. I'm not alone in that, I'm certain thousands more have to do the same. I have nothing to complain about. Isn't it strange how we say that? It's almost sounds as if I wish I did have something to complain about. Ah the nuance of language. It is far more difficult to put your feelings in writing. The challenge being to convey your feelings to others. It is easy to be misunderstood.
We all have an internal clock. I believe that clock was set when we were born. The seasons are a part of that clock. If you were born in the northern areas of the country the four seasons are distinct events. Your internal clock responds to that no matter where you move later on in life. The actual weather has little to do with that. It is something in your subconscious. In ancient times the people looked to the stars. They knew by the location of those stars what to expect. They knew it was time. Time to take appropriate action, whether it was to plant or to harvest. Man began to mark those stars, those events, on rudimentary calendars. And now, it is ingrained in us from birth. The summer is almost over and fall approaches. I feel the need to start preparations for that. Doesn't matter what the weather is, the impulse is there. For me, that means what? Pulling out the tomato plants, the cucumber plants, and turning the ground over. Putting away the patio furniture, a few final times of mowing the grass. The hanging plants come down and the mums appear. Soon I will see the corn fields all stripped bare, the beans will have been harvested as well. Leaves will drift slowly to the ground and trees standing there, bare. Now it's time for soccer games, this year will be the grandsons' final season, he graduates next year. Perhaps it is that knowledge that colors my thoughts this morning, a little bit blue.
Well, whatever the case may be I will move forward, ever forward in time. That's what we all do. No matter how hard we try to hold onto the past, it is gone. Still, the past is the fuel that drives us forward. When we no longer have a past we are done. Isn't that the truth of it? Isn't that what causes us humans such consternation? We are anxious. We know that death awaits and yet it is always unexpected. The passing of hours, days, months, seasons and years. Each brings us closer to that eventuality. So we must learn to celebrate the past not mourn its' passing. Be happy for what you have is age old advice.
This narrative took a turn to the melancholy. I apologize for that. It wasn't my intent. But I have committed myself to writing my thoughts. It is what I am thinking about. It's an honest human emotion and worthy of sharing. As Paul Harvey would say, and that's the rest of the story. This mood shall pass, the sun will rise, and a new day presents itself. Enjoy the day to the best of your ability. Another old adage jumps to mind, a bird in the hand is better than one in the brush.
Earlier this year I had a heart attack, that has been dealt with. I had a bit of a scare with cancer, that also has been dealt with, it's in the past. I don't really want to recall either of those events. Now I am required to take medication that I didn't have to take last year. I'm not alone in that, I'm certain thousands more have to do the same. I have nothing to complain about. Isn't it strange how we say that? It's almost sounds as if I wish I did have something to complain about. Ah the nuance of language. It is far more difficult to put your feelings in writing. The challenge being to convey your feelings to others. It is easy to be misunderstood.
We all have an internal clock. I believe that clock was set when we were born. The seasons are a part of that clock. If you were born in the northern areas of the country the four seasons are distinct events. Your internal clock responds to that no matter where you move later on in life. The actual weather has little to do with that. It is something in your subconscious. In ancient times the people looked to the stars. They knew by the location of those stars what to expect. They knew it was time. Time to take appropriate action, whether it was to plant or to harvest. Man began to mark those stars, those events, on rudimentary calendars. And now, it is ingrained in us from birth. The summer is almost over and fall approaches. I feel the need to start preparations for that. Doesn't matter what the weather is, the impulse is there. For me, that means what? Pulling out the tomato plants, the cucumber plants, and turning the ground over. Putting away the patio furniture, a few final times of mowing the grass. The hanging plants come down and the mums appear. Soon I will see the corn fields all stripped bare, the beans will have been harvested as well. Leaves will drift slowly to the ground and trees standing there, bare. Now it's time for soccer games, this year will be the grandsons' final season, he graduates next year. Perhaps it is that knowledge that colors my thoughts this morning, a little bit blue.
Well, whatever the case may be I will move forward, ever forward in time. That's what we all do. No matter how hard we try to hold onto the past, it is gone. Still, the past is the fuel that drives us forward. When we no longer have a past we are done. Isn't that the truth of it? Isn't that what causes us humans such consternation? We are anxious. We know that death awaits and yet it is always unexpected. The passing of hours, days, months, seasons and years. Each brings us closer to that eventuality. So we must learn to celebrate the past not mourn its' passing. Be happy for what you have is age old advice.
This narrative took a turn to the melancholy. I apologize for that. It wasn't my intent. But I have committed myself to writing my thoughts. It is what I am thinking about. It's an honest human emotion and worthy of sharing. As Paul Harvey would say, and that's the rest of the story. This mood shall pass, the sun will rise, and a new day presents itself. Enjoy the day to the best of your ability. Another old adage jumps to mind, a bird in the hand is better than one in the brush.
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