A Life of Wonder

“I want to be surrounded by the forest’s dark rich green, and the rain to which i surrendered myself fully-as it falls on my open hands, and makes the hard ground into the soft mud where my toes dig in, the splendor of life around me, the problems I once knew, small again.” – ZJB

In 2035, scientists, supported by an underworld of women mob bosses, genetically engineered men’s bodies to make the act of ejaculation horrifically painful. It happened without warning, or explanation.Instantly, screams filled the hallways of apartment buildings, dorms and hospitals. Dogs howled. Women consoled their miserable partners. The military, fearing chemical warfare, were deployed. Only half of them showed for duty. Celibate priests were protected by their vows.The most promiscuous men dared not enjoy the flesh they craved. Childless couples lay like siblings in the marriage bed. For the 33 weeks, men were terrified, celibate, and perplexed. Those men who defied this new state of affairs experienced pain so hot it purified them, causing their eyes to see double and their knees to buckle. Meanwhile, women walked proudly on the street fearing no shadows. And for 33 weeks, the press, the CDC, the military, and even me–we all speculated about what or who caused this agony. And on the 34th week, without warning we were set free. .The Nobel Prize that year went to Dr. Carmen De Santos for finding a cure. Many hated her wanting the pain to last an entire generation. Few babies were born during this time, and the ones that were had an exceptional tolerance for pain. – ZJB

Lord,
              when you send the rain
              think about it, please,
              a little?
      Do
              not get carried away
              by the sound of falling water,
              the marvelous light
              on the falling water.
          I
              am beneath that water.
              It falls with great force
              and the light
Blinds
              me to the light.

James Baldwin, “Untitled” from Jimmy’s Blues.  The James Baldwin Estate.

10 lines of verse. You can read them quickly in under a minute. And yet they expand containing legends and the very depth of the human condition. So much is possible in 10 lines of verse. See here as the greatest actor of our time performs them (below) and his equally talented peer analyzes them

Macbeth:
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

The performance:

The analysis:

A few years ago, a group of audio researchers testing how the sounds in an office impact employee performance and mindset. They found that the interact of noisy devices and people gave each office a sound signature as distinctive as a scent.

Now that many of us are working from our homes, the soundscapes have changed. Have you noticed how this has impacted you? I certainly have.

The suburban sounds of lawn mowers, crickets, children riding their bikes,  the predictable arrival of the postal truck at 2pm have replaced the city sounds of cars honking, buses exhaling, and coins jingling in a cup.

The motion of the home: its switches, stoves, and doors replaced the low purr and constant buzz of background noise coming from the office.

If you’ve felt this way and want to take charge of your soundscape, consider this site I’m alternating between crickets, rain and coffee shop noise; the latter is reserved for writing briefs.

What soundscape has worked best for you?

Take me somewhere, anywhere, not here.
Take me to the river where we walked as children,
or your dad’s deli, where I waited for you to finish your shift: hair up, apron stained with mustard.
Take me to the bookstore, where you stole for me for the first time,
or to the back of that spacious Cadillac, where I learned you.

Take me somewhere, anywhere, not here.
Not to the summer of silence we agree never to discuss.
Not to the year where I was the awkward kid, the bullied kid, the cowardly kid afraid of his own body, or to the years where I thought I was so much more than I am.

Not to where I lost you, after the days by your side praying in all the language and traditions I know, for a few more days with you.
Don’t take me there.

Take me to you, impossible as that is.
Not to the promise of you, or objects you once touched where your fragrance lingers in the air like a scented ghost.
Take me somewhere, anywhere, not here, anywhere will do, as long as it’s near you.
Take me.

Find it faster. That thing which makes you happy. It’s not as far away or as deep down as you might imagine. Let your mind go fast, flip through the images that come to it. Let your mind land and arrive. Then act.

I realized tonight that one thing that brings me happy is cartoons from the New Yorker. Also, collecting things: leaves, stamps, cards for send friends, books.

A walk outside near food trucks and a colorful swap meet. A stranger asking me if I thought lemonade or caffeine were worse for you. And wanting to hear my answer. A familiar game where you have to find people who look like the cast of your favorite TV show, even if they actually don’t look like them at all. These things bring me happy. And saying happy not happiness, also brought me happy.

A new friend on Facebook shared a poem with me today, the kind you fall into, the kind that turns your body into a brass bell and it beats inside you with sounds pouring from the deep reverberations within.  Here’s the poem below from this website: 

If you gather people, regularly, I will share a gift for you that a dear friend shared with me: Better Conversations: A Starter Guide. 

This elegant resources reminds us of how to listen and how to lead. It offers this  meaningful reflection, which I know you’ll love:

Intuition: a knowledge of instincts, the gut’s recognition that it has been here before, in this life or another. You don’t get it by studying more, thinking more, or even doing more; you get more even it by recognizing the signals sent by the body and felt by the body: the impulses that start in the eye’s green center and travel to each of the toes.

This feeling, which occurs before thought or desire, reminds us that we’re animals. And animals have blessings and freedoms: freedom from excessive thought or reflection, and the abundance of action. The more we learn, the more we are at risk of forgetting our true nature…all these heady things remind me to get back to what matters, these feelings and thoughts, in now order, creating a tapestry of ideas and emotions:

1. The smell of the earth after the rains
2. Rickshaws and bright colored umbrellas
3. The music and cadence of soft speech
4. Library reading rooms
5. Textures: of leaves, bark, dry skin
6. The repeat inhale and exhale of an animal sleeping on your toes
7. Finding a book with writing in it, notes from an ancestor
8. This American Life on Saturday afternoons
9. A true barber shop and remembering what Pablo Neruda once said.
10. Rediscovering song, especially beat
11. Pulling grass and organizing the blades into piles
12. The lighting bolt of recognition seeing in a stranger all that you value in yourself
13. Saints. The words itself. The old European buildings it brings up; the laughing and colorful gods smiling from far away places
14. Rivers. Charles here. Charles in Prague.
15. Discovering the truth behind gestures

Thank you for indulging as I feed the soundtrack of my instincts.