Unbalanced

There it is. A painting of Isaac Newton. He looks like he could have been a member of Kiss. He would have been chased out of the Bible Belt in the sixties, right?

According to Mr. Newton, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

What this has to do with figs, I have no idea.

But I find that this truth is remarkably untrue when it comes to emotional energy and the realities of everyday life. In particular, it doesn't apply to the arts. Using religious ideas to express it, it seems to me that Karma is not only not true, it is practically a joke. No offense intended to those who embrace the idea, but almost every aspect of life among humans demonstrates that there is no balance to the force. Everything is about as out of balance as you can get, and there aren't enough Darth Vaders in the universe to bring it into balance, no matter what anyone thinks about it.

And then there's God. The real One. Who doesn't seem all that interested in our sense of what is balanced and what isn't. He's got his own scale and we aren't allowed to touch it. So sad, too bad. But, the truth is, we'd only mess it up anyway because we simply don't know the true value of things.

Anyway.

How have you been?

I've been enveloped in the process of change. I'm changing in subtle but distinct ways, and it's making me a little nervous because I'm not really sure where it's all headed. I wonder if I'm going to end up being someone I don't care too much for, or will I be someone I could hope to be? I'm starting to feel the inevitable pull of "aging." And I'm not really what you could call old yet. Or at least I hope you don't.

Thing is, you'd think that if you put in a lot of effort, you could count on the results to some degree.  You'd think you'd end up with some control over what comes next. But, alas, that's just not the way it goes. At least not always. Then again, who knows?

Certainly not me.

And by the way...

I've been writing a lot of new songs after quite a long dry spell.

Why?

I have no idea.

I like it but it can be a bit unnerving how things come and go. And they do. Come and go, that is.

Turns out that some beasts require a lot of fodder to produce a few little morsels of meaningful something or other. And feeding those beasts can get very tiring.

If you don't believe me, just ask all of those artists with unfinished works.


Peace to you.




© LW Publishing 2014

Liking Lime and the Cole Slaw Incident

Suddenly I liked lime.

For years I would not have even thought about eating something flavored with limes. I might drink some lime soda/pop something or other. Lemon lime whatsit. But Key Lime Pie seemed gross somehow. And lime ice cream? Yecchhhh.

But then one day, suddenly, for no apparent reason, I thought, I’d like some lime juice in the house. So I bought some. I tried it in some marinade for chicken. It was incredible. I tried a piece of Key Lime Pie. It was great.

Suddenly I liked lime.

This was different than the Coleslaw Incident, as we think of it around here. The Coleslaw Incident went down like this:

The wife and I were in a town called Frankenmuth. It’s referred to as “Michigan’s Little Bavaria,” a little town full of shops and some restaurants that people like to go to for the weekend. We were eating at this big restaurant called Zehnder’s, where they serve a great meal with all these courses of breads and sides and chicken and whatnot. Well, one of the sides is this very creamy looking, large cut coleslaw. They would bring it to the table and my wife would eat it and keep talking about how good it was, but I didn’t eat any because I hated coleslaw.

Hated it. Seriously.

Yes, I had tried it. I had tasted it. And it was nasty, at least to me. But as I watched my wife enjoy that coleslaw, it started me thinking that maybe I was missing out on something. So I spooned a little onto my plate, which caused her to stare in disbelief because she knew how I felt about the slaw. But I just looked at it for a second or two and I said to her, “I’m going to teach myself to like this stuff.”

She laughed at me. That happens a lot.

“Seriously,” I said. “I’m going to train myself to like it.” So I ate that little bit on my plate. It was bitter. Slimy and yet rough. But I ate it. A few weeks later, at my mom’s house, I ate a little more. I didn’t give up. And it took about a year. A little here. A little there. But now, I like it. I DO like cole slaw Sam I Am.

And limes.

Some things are a gift. Some things take work.



Peace to you.



© LW Publishing 2010