Musing on the Writer's Palette

I lift my quill to write. The ink wells spread before me are labelled:

PAIN. EXPERIENCE. FATHER. COMMON SENSE. INNOCENCE. IMAGINATION. MORTALITY. LOVE. FANCY. DEATH. BETRAYAL. TIME. MOTHER. CHILDHOOD.

From this palette come the myriad colors in the tapestry of life.

The Exception

Daughter,

While they load your bags into the stainless steel belly of your 767, I had a few thoughts I wanted to share with you.

Until today you’ve lived on the Island of Home. It is a sanctuary of boring sameness for children. Many can’t wait to flee that island, only to spend the rest of their lives looking back at it. Beyond the shore of this island lies the Sea of Change.

When your plane lifts off, you will cross that sea, bound for the land all must eventually inhabit: the land of Adulthood. In adulthood, Experience is the currency of the realm. Often experience is got by making a mistake. Experience is the internal voice that keeps you from making similar mistakes again. Experience is the parent of discretion and discrimination. Your life will always be filled with choices. Chose well. Experience comes at the expense of childhood innocence; as the one is gained, the other is lost with one exception.

They are loading the last bags into your plane. Just a few more things I’d like to say:

Kindness is good policy. It is usually returned. The opposite holds true as well.

Understand and be patient with the foibles of others. The time will come when you will need a little understanding.

Hold reasonable expectations of others, but high expectations of yourself.

Adversity is part of life. Embrace it. That will take away its power to scare you. Resist it, and it will wear you down. When possible harness the energy of adversity. Like a strong northerly it can take your craft far.

The powerful often show magnanimity. That is easy when you have all the cards. Not so simple when you are vulnerable, but do it anyway. Grace is humanity’s most beautiful adornment.

Health, character and education are the only real wealth we actually possess. Everything else is on loan.

Never sing your own praises. Others will do that plenty for you, but don’t believe them. Stay grounded.

Friendship in adulthood is rare, but it does happen. Remember, to have a friend, you must be a friend.

Marriage is a decision. Staying married is a decision. It takes work, it takes two and it won’t always be easy, but if you’ve found the right mate, it will rarely be difficult. There will be worries and stress. Your children will be your greatest joy.

Parenting—call me. Not enough paper here.

Give. Don’t lend; especially money. It entangles you in a web of resentment and pain. Often the debt cannot be repaid and then you lose a friend. Give happily and freely. The universe has a way of balancing all things and you may retain a friend.

Similarly, you cannot always repay kindnesses shown to you by others. You must pass them along.

Forget talk of the end of the world. This world ends eventually for every man.

It breaks my heart, but they’ve closed the door. The plane’s loaded. Boarding will start soon. There is just one more thing.

Some adults become jaded and cynical. For them life has lost its flavor. That is because they no longer possess Wonder.

Wonder at the setting sun and violet star scattered heavens hung with golden moon. Wonder at the migratory geese flying purposefully overhead and the dew-kissed clover. Wonder at the shooting star and at the babbling mountain brook. Wonder at thoughts of the unknown universe, and Wonder at the tenuous proposition of life itself.

Wonder is the last vestige of childhood innocence left to the adult. It is the Exception gifted to humans by the Almighty to keep alive the magic of childhood. Lose Wonder and life no longer holds beauty.

We are stardust infused with eternal life. Right now our bodies are composed of atoms born at the dawn of time. Those atoms have comprised countless nebulae, stars and planets before they came to reside in us. And those atoms remember. We are a part of eternity. We are within the universe and the universe is within us. It is a closed system neither gaining, nor losing energy. The life-energy within us which animates all living things never dies. Ashes go to ashes, but life returns to life. Yield gracefully and give fear of hereafter no purchase within your heart.

Spend as much time in nature as you can. For it is our cathedral.

Now, you must go. My heart is filled with happiness for your going, but my eyes fill with tears at your leaving. Go now.

I love you.

Copyright, 2012  Luke Saucier

Musing on True North

You are the captain of your ship. If facts and truth be your North Star, you will always stay on course.

A Musing on Fortune

Fortune is the shore where waves of preparation meet the sands of opportunity. The wise woman gets her feet wet there.

King Midas

I will be terse
Empty thy pocket
Turn out thy purse.

There’s another even greater than you,
Three handed Chronos
Who divides two by two by two.

He loans you life for but a day
and you see only gold
While second by second his debt you repay.

Musing on My Little Boat

For my Little Boats, Adelaide and Gabrielle

On a warm summer day I will launch you, my Little Boat. I thought long and consulted the Great Boat Maker for guidance before I built you. Horrible storms I had seen at sea convinced me of the need to build you correctly. Your keel was laid with utmost attention to detail, for it is your foundation. When strong winds batter you, and they will, your solid keel will keep you on course.

Only the strongest timbers could make your hull. Good wood expands and contracts with weather conditions and endures well. The character of a good hull promotes buoyancy and will keep you well above water. I molded every plank into shape with my hands, hand-fastened every joint and glued every seam. Your integrity is watertight.

The seasoned spruce I chose for your mast is well known for its strength and flexibility. It will hold the sheet firmly in place, yet yield when conditions warrant as you cut across the open sea.

The genius lies in your sails. Only the best canvas would I choose for your sails. I cut and stitched your sails myself paying particular attention with every stitch that the knot was secure. Again, so there would be no fraying when winter winds blow. I embedded pretty pictures on them which will keep you always moving forward in a positive way. It is your sails working in conjunction with your keel, hull and mast which determine how far you will travel. You are sturdy and sea worthy, shiny and beautiful, Little Boat, and I love you. May fair wind fill your sails and golden horizons lie ahead for you.

One day you will build and launch a little boat of your own. Then you will know my joy.

It is with gladness in my heart, but sadness in my eye that I release you to ocean, wind and sun.

Copyright 2012, Luke Saucier

Musing on Middleland

As first rays purpled the eastern horizon, the good ship Lollipop sailed forth. Sweet harbor lay dark and quiet, but became noisy with the coming dawn. We cut silently out into early morning sea and daylight.

Toward noon the wind picked up, and so did the sea. Afternoon provided turns aplenty. I took dangerous plunges and unnecessary risks. I drove her hard and fast. She served me better than I knew; better than I deserved. We travelled far. I never fully appreciated her green timbers while aboard and she had just become seaworthy when, late afternoon, during one of the frequent storms near Middleland, I hugged too close in and the cross-current of Middleland dashed us upon its shoals.

Looking back it's all clear, now, mistakes made while still in her thrall, but, in my heat, I was blind. Lollipop lies behind me now, broken on the shore of Middleland. No turning back, so I‘ve deconstructed her and carry pieces to burn to warm me and show the way. Her light reveals obstacles along the path. I forge on as blue yields to indigo. Forward. Always moving forward.

Old Bald Mountain with its stinging wind lies ahead to the west and beyond is the setting sun toward which we all must travel.

Copyright, Luke Saucier, 2012

Musing at The Shore of Time

I stood upon the shore of time. Moments washed over my feet. In my preoccupation with matters at hand, I didn't notice the rising tide. I was, too soon, swept away.

Atlas Unbound--A Paean to the Common Man

Poor Atlas bound in chain,
Against dark rock
Night and day you strain
Whitewashed hearth soaked with blood
of your body, torn,
to serve greedy master
to whom you are sworn.
Atlas, great Atlas
Like the lamb you are shorn.
Tear off that chain, cast down the clay
No more tomorrows forlorn,
not another day.
Mend your body; its strength to regain
Until you become
Atlas unbound once again

Musing at Sunset

The night paints the palisades over my shoulder in sunset blue as she and I sit bundled on purple evening sand. Gulls caw overhead. Playfull laughter carried upon the salty Pacific breeze from the shore tickles our ears. Silhouetted children frolic at water’s edge as golden orb slips into shimmering horizon exploding sky from burnt orange to spangled violet as darkness gathers.

Ineffable,
the moment.
The beauty.

Another day finished. Once again Lady Noche has seduced her lover, Sol, and drawn the curtain tight 'round the world.