As I come to the cusp of another year, I can't help think about a few things that have hit close to home. And surprisingly, it's not about paddling. Maybe because it's at the age I am now, or maybe it's something I now pay attention to, but I specifically noticed two things that seem to run contrary to each other. Lot of my friends, colleagues and even family are now having children. It's a pleasure to see these children that are vibrant and full of life. But on the flip side, people I know are not only ageing, (of course), but most poignantly, getting sick, with some succumbing to their illness. I was especially reminded of this when I visited my father's grave site this year and realized how close we are in age. It's 'life' at its finest some would say, whether evolutionary, or for others, the creator's master plan. Whether each action is to balance the other (and help us cope), maybe, but it's still a hard swallow at times. Despite it all, this is life as we all know it.
Reflection: Looking back at the previous year
New Year's is a happy time and I don't want to rain on anyone's parade with sombre thoughts. It's just that I wish for all my friends, family and readers all the best in health and spirit. Because it is only with health we can paddle, and of course when we get to paddle, happiness soon follows. And yes, I'm being facetious, as there are many other things that can bring about happiness, but as I suspect most of my readers are paddlers, I think you know exactly where I am coming from!
Projection: Looking ahead at the new year
Happy New Year's Everyone!
Wishing you all health and happiness in 2012!
See you on the water!
tPP
2 comments:
David,
I enjoyed reading your post, and I found your remarks on aging and your father's grave poignant. What's interesting is that it's reminiscent of a Jim Harrison poem, called Broom.
To remember you’re alive
visit the cemetery of your father
at noon after you’ve made love
and are still wrapped in a mammalian
odor that you are forced to cherish.
Under each stone is someone’s inevitable
surprise, the unexpected death
of their biology that struggled hard, as it must.
Now to home without looking back,
enough is enough.
En route buy the best wine
you can afford and a dozen stiff brooms.
Have a few swallows then throw the furniture
out the window and begin sweeping.
Sweep until the walls are
bare of paint and at your feet sweep
until the floor disappears. Finish the wine
in this field of air, return to the cemetery
in evening and wind through the stones
a slow dance of your name visible only to birds.
— Jim Harrison, “Broom”, from Songs of Unreason
Cheers,
Paul Hoy
isleofhoy.com
Hi Paul,
Thanks for sharing that, moving poem indeed. Every once in a while, I think it is prudent to strip away the layers of our complicated/busy lives, and take time to cherish 'living'. In tranquil silence, in the midst of death, a cemetery is quite often fitting.
David
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