Moon

January 25, 2016

Greetings from la bella luna,

“We ran as if to meet the moon,”  Robert Frost

There is something special about being in bed on a cold morning, the blankets pulled up to your chin, looking at the frost on the window.  Knowing outside it is cold enough to make your teeth hurt. It would be crazy to be out there in that when one could be nested in a pile of pillows and quilts, a moment away from dreams.

That thought crossed my mind, and if anyone had been looking out their window as I ran by in the predawn darkness, they might have used synonyms for ‘crazy’ but the sentiment would be the same.

The moon was over my house.  It was a near perfect circle of white in the sky; no corona, no cloud shadow, nothing to take away from its presence.  It was as if someone had cut a hole in the inky backdrop and let the light of tomorrow shine through. 

My feet sounded louder than normal.  Maybe my soles were still stiff from the cold, slapping on the pavement like clown shoes.  I tried to relax my body to run more smoothly but my leg muscles ignored me, contracted by winter’s grip.  Fwap fwap, fwap fwap, fwap fwap…

At the end of my street I saw the moon had followed me.  It was no longer over my house but over the road I turned on next.  I was grateful for the light, I could better see the patches of ice on the road, but it unnerved me that it should go to such trouble.

I glanced to the left and saw three deer.  They were frozen in mid-stride by the moonlight.  Their heads did not move as I went by but I could feel their eyes follow me.  I could hear them thinking; ‘Crazy’.

I glanced back at the white disc in the sky and remembered the book ‘Goodnight Moon’, one of my children’s favorite books.  My kids, maybe all kids, as they learned to speak, loved saying the word ‘moon’.  When they saw it in the sky they would point and say emphatically ‘MOON!’ as if they discovered it.

I trudged, inspiring to live up to the gracefulness of the deer-peer, but failing, pulled into each step by unforgiving gravity.

There many people who make a strong connection between insanity and the full moon.  Science resists this notion, but ironically emergency room physicians will testify to its truth.  Fifteen centuries ago ‘lunacy’ was a literal reference to the madness brought on by the moon.  People thought that the position of the planets, particularly our closest neighbor in the sky, affected human disposition.

Crazy, right?  I ran with the moon behind me for a few miles, feeling it looking over my shoulder, putting a gray rendition of me on the pavement, wondering what was it about me that fascinated it so.  I turned left and looked up and the moon followed me.

The morning before I heard a news story about storms and the reporter talked about the full moon and the tide being lower than usual.  Some faraway location where water was not frozen in place.  The moon’s gravity pulls the water of our planet, teases it up from our own gravity, peeling it back from warm shores like a blanket on a chilly morning. The thought struck me as archaic, naïve. That’s what makes our tides?  That seems crazy, I thought.  Lunacy.

Another mile and I turned again, back west to face the moon, which was now hovering over this road.  I looked down, a little self-conscious now, feeling like this was really too much.  What if someone noticed; looked out their window and saw the moon was sliding all over the sky just to light my way? 

I could feel this week of running piled up in my legs.  Aches in my thighs, a twinge of pain in my calf, the unwilling joints, all made less responsive in the winter morning.  Perhaps it’s not this week, I thought, but the five decades before it that is piling up.  I shook my head like a two year old resisting creamed carrots, and the thought rattled loose and slipped away and froze in the brittle air and shattered on the pavement behind me.

The moon seemed to be brighter, more intense.  It seemed closer now, I could see its shape, see the fall of its horizon.  I felt it pull me; I am mostly water, why wouldn’t its gravitational effect move me like the enormous bed of ocean it pushes each day?  I was lifted just slightly from the pavement, just enough to silence the slapping of the clown shoes.  I glided along the road, warmer in the silvery magic light, freed just enough from the earth’s pull to run as I was designed to run

I looked up to thank the moon and saw what it was trying to show me all morning.  It was so obvious and somehow in all the years I have run under this friend, all the years it has given me that tidal lift, I had missed it until now.

On the face of the bold white disc were the grey markings I have seen for all my life but somehow had not seen.  There on the lower right side was the silhouette of a runner in midstride frozen on the moon’s face.  One hand cocked back, the other just in front, his legs hidden by the slope of the moon’s shape.

“MOON!” I shouted, and I laughed and picked up the pace, running to catch the moon when it got close enough to the horizon so I could thank it properly. 

Hope this finds you running like crazy,

  

David

Copyright © 2016 David Smith

Powerball

 

January 18, 2016

Greetings from your lucky day,

You might have guessed since you’re reading this that I did not win the Mega-Maxi-Ultra-Super-Duper-Powerball lottery.  I guess it’s also possible that you are not reading this because you were one of the winners, but that’s another tangent.

The reason I didn’t buy a ticket is I was distracted by the list of things that are more likely to happen to me than winning the Powerball.  These lists appear every time there is a big payout, and to me it is always more interesting than winning itself, your chances of which were 1 in 292 million. 

According to Time magazine, (Motto: We Didn’t Buy a Powerball Ticket) you are more likely to die from constipation, an asteroid strike, hornet sting, lightning strike, or be murdered in the Grand Canyon than win the Powerball.  If you combine all of those events I don’t know if you beat the odds for winning the lottery, but really after a day like that who cares?

I heard intelligent, rational, sensible people sketch out their justification for buying lottery tickets.  They always say they know the probabilities, but... “if someone is going to win, why not me?  Why not today?  You can’t win if you don’t play.”  I get that.  If you have a chance to be wealthy, why wouldn’t you take it?

I heard people talk about their choices.  The numbers they chose; kids’ birthdays, combinations of dates, addresses, ages, and Kim Kardashian’s current weight.  They explained why they decided to buy $44 worth and didn’t spend $4400, because that would be foolish.  Where they would go buy the ticket, whether that store had a winning record, and what the odds were of that bolt of lightning hitting again.  What time of day was the best, whether to wear a lucky shirt or save that for the SuperBowl.  Only so much mojo in cotton you know.

I am not a gambler, other than the daily risks I take with asteroids and lightning, but the cost of the ticket was not ever the issue.  I just couldn’t suspend my disbelief long enough to get the momentum needed to drive to the local party store and plop down $2 for a list of random digits.

Just so you know, this is not like being PBS snob; you know ‘I don’t watch TV, but when I do it’s only PBS.’  I am not above buying a lottery ticket; as a matter of fact I have a $5 winner in my sock drawer right now.  I’m waiting until I get closer to retirement to cash it in.

One common theme in every lottery discussion; what will you do if you win?  100% of the people I talked to (the honest ones anyway) said they would quit their job. There was some token reference to giving to the needy and paying off some debt, but then the choices diverge depending on the level of inhibition.  It’s interesting to hear what people dream of if anything were possible.

To one degree or another we all think that luck has something to do with the quality of our lives.  Some describe it differently but in the vast chain reaction of our world there are random chance events that affect us, sometimes positively sometimes adversely. 

I think that is where this lottery fever stems from.  Yes, we know that what the math is, what the odds are.  But we have this hope, irrational and unsullied by fact, that we might tip luck in our favor if we risk a few numbers, a few dollars.  And while you wait to see the numbered balls bubble up, the mental lift you get from the possibility, however remote, that your life could change dramatically for the better in an instant, is worth it.

What occurs to me this morning is why don’t we gamble like that with everything we are passionate about?  Why not ignore the odds and invest ourselves in what might pay off for in the life we dream of?  You know what I am talking about.  It is that relationship you hesitate over.  The book you have not written.  The career you didn’t choose first.  The school you really wanted to go to.  Maybe it’s time.  After all, someone’s going to win, why not you?

I’ve given this some serious thought, and I am certain if I do ever win the Powerball I’ll still write Monday Moanin’.  Might be from the edge of my tropical island, but I’ll still be here every week.  Just letting you know.

Hope this finds you winning,

David

Copyright © 2016 David Smith

Dear Body

January 4, 2016

Greetings from the body electric,

Dear Body,

I keep meaning to write this but you know how things tend to accumulate and the days fill up and suddenly five decades have slipped away.  But this morning I felt like I shouldn’t wait any longer. 

First, I am not sure what you are telling me with this twinge in my shoulder.  Was it something I did to irritate you?  I have no memory of doing anything you would object to, but the last few days I get the feeling you are not at ease with me.

I suppose it could be related to running six miles the other morning.  I know slipping on icy roads is not your favorite thing, but I wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt you.  Anyway, I hope it’s not something from years ago that you’re just now mentioning.  Really, we are too close for that kind of thing.

I won’t bring up the other pains.  I know I brought those on myself. 

I realize that I don’t always listen to you.  That has caused us some problems.  When we were younger I always thought we’d just push through whatever mistakes I made, that there would always be time to bounce back.  It took about a decade too long to learn that 40 don’t bounce back like 30. 

I’d hate to start a list of what I could have done better for you. 

I am glad I listened to you about some things, maybe some too late.  I can’t believe I ever smoked, I am so sorry about that.  I’m glad we put it behind us.  As for the all the drinking and the Coney dogs and that deep fried calamari in Mexico, well I already admitted those were mistakes.  I know it’s harder to forgive me when I keep backsliding.  We’re both a work in progress, right?

I am not convinced you’re right about the tattoo.  Well, maybe we can talk about that later.

Speaking of that, I noticed that your skin is taking on a different texture.  Is that something I deal with, or are you handling that?

I don’t want to sound critical at all but I wish you would sleep more.  Seems like you forgot all those years the kids were young and you napped in the car on the way to work, and remember how we talked about the day you’d be able to sleep through the night?  What happened to that plan?  If there’s something I could do to help I wish you’d tell me.

When I got up this morning and swung my legs over the edge of the bed I could feel that you still were still a little sore about all the marathon training.  I wanted you to know how much I appreciate your support.  You know, it’s not just for me.  I do it for both of us.

Anyway when I woke up I lay there for a while and thought about you, and how much you do for me, day in and day out.  Year after year, without much direction, you just do what is wanted and needed.  And it struck me what a miracle that is.

The fact that the heart pumps and the lungs work and the reflexes twitch.  That the sweat beads when I need it, and if I have to lean left or right or reach or lift, you are right there without me having to tell you anything.  You have been amazing, and I realize I have sometimes taken you for granted.

I can’t thank you enough for where you have taken me.  For every mountain we climbed, every mile we rode, every race we ran.  Thank you for all of the pleasure you brought, the fun you helped create.  Thank you for being a part of every person I put my arms around, every child whose hand I held.  Thank you for giving me what I needed to get up when I fell.  I appreciate you keeping making me warm, for keeping me cool, for giving me the strength to do what makes every day worth it.

I know you want me to take you to yoga, and I heard you say that you really like more water and kale and less Moose Tracks and IPA.  I get it. I wrote down ‘moderation in all things’ if that works for you.  My point is that I will be more attentive, I will do better, and we will both be happier.

I know we are going to be together for the rest of our life, and I want that to be a long, long time.  So I promise that I will be a better partner, and that I will listen closer to what you tell me and try to act accordingly. 

Mostly I want to say how grateful I am.  Not just for all of the invisible, synapse-muscle-tendon-sensory gifts, but for what you make possible.  The fact that you turn my dreams, my wants and wishes and needs, into action, into reality.  I will always be thankful for your creation and your Creator.  I will do more to show that gratitude through my actions. 

And please don’t take the Moose Tracks too personally.

Hope this finds you singing,

David