John Swinburn

“…the best thing one can do when it is raining is let it rain.”
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Packing to move, ones realizes there’s a price to be paid for every instance in which one succumbs to the temptation to acquire something.  I begin to suspect an austere lifestyle can offer rewards.

I learned something yesterday; furniture whose style is far from the styles I usually find appealing can be stunning.  That’s probably true of a lot of matters of taste: art, food, music, etc.  There is an important lesson in this realization.

Sometime, when I go to a greengrocer, I look around and silently give thanks for farmers. Then I realize I am even more thankful for vegetables.

Comfort is a welcome relief from the stresses of daily life.

Too much comfort, though, can anesthetize a person, making it impossible to fully comprehend the reality of daily life.

I think it’s wise, when experiencing the comfort of the moment, to deliberately constrast that comfort with its opposite.  By doing so, one can more fully appreciate the comfort, while simultaneously grounding oneself to reality.

Having recently read some advice for people who are just beginning to practice meditation, it occurs to me that meditation is a natural practice in which humans have engaged for millennia.  We focus on something…anything, really…and allow our minds to settle, very gently.  It relieves stress and promotes calmness.  I will write more about meditation as my experience with it enables me to better understand it.

Devoting just a few minutes, early in the morning, to productive work around the household is a rewarding way to start the day.  It takes so little effort, yet pays such handsome dividends.

I think it’s possible the sun will erupt any moment into a massive explosion, consuming all the planets in its orbit and, of course, obliterating all the life found there.  With that having been said, nothing really matters, does it?  Or it is just the opposite?  Everything, and every second, is precious.

As I walk through my house, I see an assortment of things. For each thing, I easily can imagine my life without it: I can do without that sofa, that chair, that lamp, that book, that photo, that table, that glass, that plate.  What, then, makes it hard to shed oneself of things? It’s simply state of mind; transfer thoughts of individual things to the collection of things.  Once that state of mind is recognized, it becomes far easier to be done with the tyranny of things.

It is fruitless to compare one’s life to the life of someone else; they are not comparable.  No one else can live my life, nor can I live anyone else’s life. It’s best to be satisfied with the life I have, for I cannot have any other.

Without splinters under the skin, we’d not know how good it feels when they’re gone. I’m glad to have experienced splinters, but happier that those I’ve known have moved on to other things.

Day before yesterday, I watched a large flock of small birds perform amazing group acrobatics in the sky.  The birds seemed to be one large undulating mass of dots, moving first one direction, then turning sharply in another.  As this mass of coordinated feathers moved through the air, the density of the mass grew then shrank then grew again, seeming at times to be a dark disk, then becoming almost invisible as the light caught it differently as it made a sharp turn.  Members of human society are unable to adjust and adapt as quickly as those birds.  We would be far better off if we could.

Stress is invisible but it exists nonetheless.  I have evidence of it; early to bed last night and later than normal to arise this morning.  It’s either stress or it’s evidence that I’ve been taxing my bones and muscles beyond their comfort zones; and my body is responding with a demand for rest.   If it’s the latter, it’s about time I broke free of my coach-potato cocoon! Today, though, I will allow myself to rest a bit more.  Whether it’s stress or a demand for rest from overuse, my body is insisting on a bit more of a respite.

The first day of March augurs change.  The winter season is ending, of course, but another season is ending, as well.  A seventeen-year season of living in north Dallas in a home too big for two average people, but just right for two people who value and need their private space, their private time.  Yes, we’ve lived here seventeen years, longer than we’ve lived in any other one place. We’ve made our mark on our home and we’ve really come to love its open space and all its windows, letting in so much light when light is what we need.

With all we like about the house, it’s not what we want now.  Now, we want to be in a different place, doing different things, living a different experience.  So we’re preparing to leave.

The buyers of our house have arranged for the home inspection for today.  I didn’t know home inspections were conducted on Saturdays; learn something new every day.  The sale-purchase process has a strange life all its own, I suppose.  I look forward to getting it behind us so we can move on to new things. I like knowing we’ll have more freedom, at least in the short-term, in not having a house.  But we’ll have selected a place to be and a place to live by the time the closing takes place, won’t we?  Or maybe we’ll just put our furniture in storage and hit the road for a while. Today, I don’t know just what we’ll do the week after closing.  But I look forward to it.  And to the months and years thereafter.

When trees begin to bud, when traces of green peek through the straw-colored mat of the Winter lawn, when the chill in the air melds into the bright warmth of sunlight, Spring is days or weeks away.  It’s one of the best times of the year.

Today will be an exceptional day, full of excitement and newness.   Good things will happen today. The power of positive thinking is more than a wish; it is a fact.  That is not to say miracles happen; but, good things happen to make the idea of miracles appealing!

Good day, my friends.   Today WILL be a good day!

At 4:00 in the morning, what else does one have to do but drink coffee and wonder about zoosemiotics? This morning, that is what I am doing. The consideration of zoosemiotics began when I saw a photo of a dog that appeared to me to be smiling. I’ve heard it said before that the term “smile” is incorrect to describe the facial expression of a dog, but I wanted to explore the idea. So I began investigating. That investigation led me to zoosemiotics. I am not sufficiently alert to retain all there is to absorb on the topic, so I’ll leave it for now; but this Thought for the Day may one day serve as a reminder to me to take it up again.

I have a thin, slow-growing beard that will never give me impressive facial hair.  But I consider that a blessing.  Outside the traditional workforce, I can get away with shaving every two or even three days.  I like that.  But I would like it even more if I could go a week or more without shaving.  Well, I could.  But my thin, slow-growing beard would look (and feel) hideous.  So I am quite satisfied to shave ever other day or so.  It feels so good to be newly shaved; I love the smoothness of my face and neck when the razor has just done its job.   I realize this sensation is absolutely decadent.  I am grateful for my life, that I can experience the luxury of a new, clean shave, on a schedule that suits me.