Enough with the Rain! - May 23

My great grandfather, after whom my father, older son and I are named, was a multi-faceted guy, but a florist by occupation, above all.  For that, he left chlorophyll, not blue blood, in the veins of his descendants.  And I'm into plants.  I know the rain is good for them.  But I also enjoy seeing the sun once in a while, a favor sometimes stingily bestowed by Michigan weather.  And alas, today is one of those cloudy, rainy days.

I know my energy level was down because the morning exercise routine seemed to go on forever.  And I just couldn't get into those darned Greeks upon rising, either.

So, I took the day off from projects and parked myself in my downstairs library, read some of my favorite poetry, Samwise in my lap, white tea at my right hand. Paradise.

At points, putting aside a volume, I also meditated about how, as human beings, we open the aperature of our selves only so far (necessarily so, Facebook and social media notwithstanding).  Despite the 1960's invocation to "let it all hang out," I recollect the me of over 40 years ago and appreciate the fragility that needed guarding from the rough and tumble world. 

RMC in 1971

I admit I was a serious young man, but fortunately there were voices I could listen to and relate to -- Paul Simon's song "I am a rock, I am an island" was an essential touchstone for me.  I especially identified with the stanza that really pegged me:


I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island. 

Fortunately, I ultimately didn't get stuck away and separated from the wider world.  Opening that aperature worked both ways for me -- allowing light in, and allowing light out.  There's comfort in knowing how many good people are in the world, if you can only see them.

But when the world is cold and grey, like today, it's nice to know there's a place that always welcomes you back.