Internet Down Today – So Noontime Post

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To gain your own voice, you have to forget about having it heard.

Allen Ginsberg

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You know sometimes in writing I feel like I am a man playing a piano in an empty music hall, and the truth is it does not matter to me.

I have no desire to actually be heard.  My life, my words, any music I make need not be heard to be what it is – an expression from within that floats out into space.

Maybe the words we utter, the sounds we make are for those already gone. Maybe these words give them joy – confirm their lives, their thinking, the toil of their earth-bound days.

Maybe it is enough that we echo those who loved us, so we might love others.

I’ve never had much interest in being famous and not a great deal of interest in mortal life more than all the beauty and thoughts that exceed mortal existence. The long today never seemed quite to measure up to eternity.

My son once sent me an interview in which an author spoke of his idea of life and my son said, “Dad, this man reminds me of you.”  In response, I offered this – my view of mortal life: “I think of mortal life as The Long Separation.”

In saying this I am certain that all the things my son and I did throughout the years will travel with me in the next world.  The vacations in Arizona, in Italy and Scotland,  fishing and boating at Deep Creek, the ball games, practicing pitching in the front and backyard, seeing him in the school science fair, playing pee-wee and high school football, at Disneyworld, waiting at the corner for the school bus, every joyous Christmas Day.  All of it will be packed effortlessly for the journey that never ends.

Soon enough all of the yesterdays come to union with those now gone and The Long Separation will be no more.  Dying we are a link between all those yesterdays and those we leave behind to love as we were loved.

Shalom.

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