The short rain

Saturday, 8 September 2018

A long few days. I’m happy to be done for the moment and for the rest I’ll have tomorrow. It’s odd– it’s Saturday night but that doesn’t mean what it once did to me.

It’s dark out now. There’ll be no parties or bars or even coffeehouses. Just quiet and my computer.

Haven’t posted anything in more than a few days and I feel kind of bad about that. I’ve been traveling though.

A long drive back to my hometown, which was good. I wasn’t sure about that, about how it would go, I mean. Parents, family, you know, it can be muddy.

I returned to Iowa in the rain.

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Something I cannot name

Tuesday, 7 August 2018

Jack Arnold, the laconic father on The Wonder Years, was fond of saying: How was work? Work was work.

Though I will say, it began pouring while I was in the barn. I was surprised to realize, this is new. Don’t typically head out there if it’s going to rain but this was unexpected. I was working on the inside so it didn’t matter much to me. Work-wise, I mean.

Otherwise, it was lovely. The rain pounding the roof and land. The wind whipping through the corn. The barn held up, too, keeping me mostly dry. Then the temperature dropped and I shivered once or twice. I held on and savored the feeling of being chilly. Feels like it’s been ages. You know, I’ve had enough of summer for one year. Bring on the fall already. The sun can go away and come again another day.

(Not today’s storm, sure, but a recent one.)

An issue, I think, along the lines of work was work is a certain passivity. One I share, which is why I know about it. Sometimes, perhaps most often during our low points, we must only focus on getting through the day. Whatever occurs during that day is merely in passing. Goals can become fuzzy or even lost.

Which is what was on my mind: I’m not a very goal-oriented person. I more just go with the flow, as they say. Then, to set not a goal but a good goal, one must, to a certain degree, know oneself.

Easier said than done. And I think that’s been a problem for me over the past few years. Don Marquis said it best: My heart has followed, all my days, something I cannot name.