An open letter to ....
Dear Female of the Species,
There is an old saying which is true in many ways and about many things: "Hope springs eternal."
My hope, at this point in time, is that someday I will find you -- or, find you again, as the case might be. Tomorrow, next week, two months from now. Sometime. But, not too long a time -- not too far into the future.
Because, at some point along the trail -- tomorrow, next week, two months from now -- if you still are unknown to me, or even if you are known but still not with me, I will wake up one morning and think to myself that the moment has arrived for me to move on and to make definite plans for a life in which you play no intimate role. Think back to words I wrote months ago. This phase of my life is my "last run." I designated it as such during the winter of 2009. And, it will be just that. And, as the song goes, it will be exactly that "with you or without you."
Also, in the winter of 2009, I wrote a post which included the words, "Never again will I spend a winter alone." This vow remains one of the few promises I have made to myself during my life. It held true for the winter of 2010. I will go a long way to ensure it holds true for the winter of 2011.
So, for the time being, I will continue "packing and re-packing" my property. You will continue wandering in your own world -- wherever that might be. My plans are pretty much made and set from now until around the end of October, but I am beginning to think beyond that point, too.
Remember, I am the "happiness is momentary guy." Even if we find each other and become companions, I would not expect all our moments together to be happy ones. I simply would rather be with you than apart from you. But, even apart from you, I anticipate experiencing happy moments as well as sad moments and painful moments and ecstatic moments and moments involving every emotion imaginable to continue occurring in my life. So, again, I say: I just rather would be with you than without you. That is all; that is everything.
Just realize that no matter where you are, I do actually love you, and my love is real, because it is strong enough for me to let you go. However, I will not forget about my own well being: Never another winter alone.
At least, in my present mood, I have no decision to make and, consequently, will not someday be wondering if I once again had made a poor choice in deciding which path to follow when "two roads diverged." It is you who may -- or may not -- be haunted a decade or two "down the road" by the decision you make today.
Who can say? If I cannot find you, possibly, you will find me.
Dum vita est spes est,
Fram, who waits and hopes, but soon must wander ....
Ann Wilson is as beautiful as ever;
or, read this again in twenty-five years
Most of my uncles were farmers or Lutheran ministers or doctors. These are three occupations from which its participants especially enjoy telling other people what to do, as well as explain to anyone who will listen what is right and what is wrong about the world. The same might be said of journalists.
All right. It could be you will comprehend where I am coming from when I say this: Being a man, I am not certain where beauty (if any) is to be found in a man. Actual beauty, in a woman, I believe, is to be found in her art. Do you understand me better now, and why I drift the way I do at times?
Since I anticipate this will be my last post for a while, I am writing even more than usual and including more music than usual. Of the music, especially take a look at Heart, the band's rendition of "Crazy on You" from 1976, the 1994 version of "Love Hurts" and the performance of "Alone" in 2003. For any "kids" out there in never-never land (using the term loosely), this is an excellent illustration of what a quarter-century actually means in the over-all scheme of things.
It means beauty only is skin deep, and capability does not make any difference in regard to how much or how little a person eats. It means talent and ability and emotions all persist well beyond a quarter-century of living life as an adult. It means a candle burns until it is extinguished by death. It means Nancy Wilson is as beautiful as ever.
I saw Heart -- the Wilson sisters, Ann and Nancy -- in 1977 and again in (but not until) 2003. The account of my 1977 adventure would make for an entertaining post. (But, if no one reads it, why bother?) The 2003 event was a pure nostalgia trip, and not much more.
This is the long way of saying that I understand the mechanical physics of earthly existence, and they are about as relevant to actually living life as is determining what ketchup to buy -- Heinz, Hunts or the Walmart brand. If you do not understand what I just said, wait another twenty-five years, look in a mirror and then read these words again.
I am laughing, and I hope you are, too.
Time to move into the background once more
On Sunday (July 4), I posed this question in my post:
"So, I am asking again. Does anyone out there have any answers -- any suggestions, any opinions, any comments at all -- about this dreamy state of mine .... about these voyages into the surreal I have briefly described."
Today, two days later, and not a single, specific response. Which is fine, but I think it might be a sign to slip into the background again for a while. We all have things to do besides spending our time putting together posts, so I think I will return to the "real world" now and concentrate on those other things for a while.
Other than that, as I have said once or twice in the past, I am in the fortunate position of being able to do a bit of journalistic work for actual cash if I want to do any "playful writing." And, as I also have said once or twice in the past, I quit my newspaper job in May 2009 to go to Europe and to try to do some "serious writing." Well, I went to Europe, but the serious writing has been in a state of blissful procrastination.
I guess it is time to move beyond thinking about companions (for a while) and to start thinking about unfinished promises to myself. Add to that the fact I have been writing about many things here which best would be confided only to friends -- and, it appears I no longer have any friends who drift upon the sea of blogs. Sort of funny the way things turned out, I think. I still am laughing.
If anyone wants to contact me, it is not complicated to do so. Otherwise, I will return when I have some actual news to report. By the way, to you, who actually read this sort of missal from top to bottom, I give you my thanks and I owe you a dinner.
Some lines from "An Essay on Man"
by Alexander Pope
Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;
Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore!
What future bliss, he gives not thee to know,
But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.
Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
Man never is, but always to be blest:
The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.