Until the fog lifts

I am running far behind on my reading, writing, and even my 'rithmatic is getting pretty fuzzy. Not sure if it is the slow decline in brain cells, or just lack of use, but I am unable to do math in my head the way I used to. The lines of thought are also less sharp these days, and things remain slightly out of focus. Life in San Diego is still good, I've just been feeling a little off, a little foggy, a little down.

Sorry, tangent. What I started to say is that I am behind on reading both on and offline. I am only recently getting back to reading the daily posts over at the3six5.posterous.com, and have just caught up to the end of March. Like any blog, some posts resonate more than others. Since there is a different author for each post, it is even more of a grab bag than most blogs.

Until I unstick my lines of thought, I thought I'd point out a couple of posts that caught my eye. One tells me to relax, and one inspires me to get past this funk.

By Matthew Knight

I’m sorry.

I’d planned greatness for today.

I’d planned a trip to the other side of the country and back.
I’d planned a spun yarn of pirates and robbers and sharks and helicopters.
I’d planned a million dominoes clattering after one another around a six mile course of twists and turns and ups and downs and tunnels and bridges.

I’d planned a rodeo.
I’d planned a circus.
I’d planned a perfectly cooked poached egg.

I’d planned to create something so wonderful, wierd, wacky and wicked.
I’d planned to craft and cajole and create and curate.

I’d planned on doing so many things.
But instead, I went out for lunch.

I get easily distracted.
Somewhat like a magpie in a hall of mirrors.

I get distracted by another idea.
I get distracted by the dozen things which float around me in my personal digital cloud.
I get distracted by the thing I was meant to be concentrating on an hour ago.

I’m not actually that sorry.

It was a great lunch, with friends.
Wine, Roast Meat, Potatoes.
There was even cake.

I guess, one should never apologise for simply spending time with friends.

Putting down the laptop, and not writing a blog post.
Putting down the camera, and not taking a photo.
Putting down the pen, and not writing your diary.

It’s okay to not document.
It’s okay to not capture, edit, post, repost.
It’s okay to forget the infinite detail, and remember the fuzzy whole.
It’s okay to go outside and just be.

I’d planned greatness for today
I had a better day by just doing nothing.
I should try and remember that more often.

By Alicia Kan

Today I spoke to three strangers and made them laugh. I bought a book on Frank Lloyd Wright for a man who once dreamed of being an architect. And I inspired a business partner to reach for a goal he once thought was unattainable. 

Engineers build bridges. Artists create works of art. Although intangible, I hope my mark on this earth will be as memorable. I want my epitaph to read, “She never had an original idea. But she left a legacy of truth and beauty behind.”

In 2004 I was lying in a Hong Kong hospital, five tubes coming out of me, unable to move, because of cervical cancer. I was outraged that my body had failed me, sick of being surrounded by sickness and frightened at the prospect of death. 

That night I heard the patient in the next room dying. As I listened to him wail in the dark for someone to hold him, I thought, who would weep for him? Who would weep for me? How would I be remembered if I ever left this world? Would I be remembered at all?

It occurred to me then that I didn’t have a body of work worthy of a tribute. No Moleskin notebooks with scribbled poems. No unfinished paintings. No children. Just a history of bad grades, bad behaviour and a closetful of designer bags.

I swore that night that if I ever got well, I would say yes when before I’d say no. I’d stop worrying what people thought about me and do what made me happy. I’d give each person I met the best moment they could ever have, as long as it was within my power to give it. I’d live a life remembered.

So like pennies in a jar, I collect these moments. Today three people’s frazzled Fridays were, for one minute, lightened by deep belly laughs. One person rediscovered, in a swift turn of a page, why he loved Frank Lloyd Wright. And another person had an epiphany: He could go further and faster. His dream was not impossible after all.

On a day like this, my jar – and heart -- are full.