V I N M A N' s V I B e

Everything is getting a shower today; the lilac tree, flowers and grass, bird houses and driveways drip nutritious drops of H2O.

Light showers of rain are splashing on deck puddles like a million water bugs on a lake-top. It’s not a constant shower, it rains heavier for a bit, quiets the birds then lightens up to tease them into venturing forth for food again. But after a few highs and lows, my feathered friends have measured its pace and are only slightly quieted by an increase in the shower’s intensity.

One of these days,
I’m gonna sit down
and write a long letter
To all the good friends I’ve known
And I’m gonna try
And thank them all
for the good times together.
Though so apart we’ve grown.

The gutters spill onto an aluminum awning outside my window with a waterfall cadence and sound. The cats sleep, lulled by the natural music as I am. They do what they do, as do I, because our souls beckon sleep and writing alike.

Yesterday, I exchanged pleasantries and hopes for “a good weekend of weather” with numerous colleagues on elevators and as we passed in hallways. We smile at each other for encouragement and hope together in these difficult times — surely sunshine, warmth and blue skies are the preferred combination in the atmospheric concoction abrewin’ . For an instant, tasks to be completed in the golden sunshine slotted themselves in our heads in perfect order to be retrieved later.

Instead, we are blessed with spring showers to slow us down, to make us listen and to help us look inward while nature orchestrates sounds so perfect musicians strive to echo them. We might have gotten the stormy brew that’s passed north of us for now, but we got what we needed.

I am alone, left to write for awhile. It is my way of harmonizing with the vibe as we all orbit the sun together at 18.5 miles per second. We travel in locations that differ in climate, topography and relative distance. But viewed from across the galaxy, we are near to each other than our human perception of molecules in a rain drop.

From down in L.A.
All the way to Nashville,
From New York City
To my Canadian prairie home
My friends are scattered
Like leaves from an old maple.
Some are weak, some are strong.

Last week, my 81-year old father and I were sitting in his home office discussing current and personal events alike. 

“I’ve always said what this generation needed is a good depression to make people realize what’s really important.” he said. And then he told me about how his family had so much love with so little money. And, once again, he was right.

And I’m gonna thank,
That old country fiddler
And all those rough boys
Who play that rock ‘n’ roll
I never tried to burn any bridges
Though I know I let some good things go.

So much of what we “have” is only in ourselves and others. So much of what is really important gets lost too easily in the daily struggle to survive our human conditions whatever they may be. Facebook and other social networking technologies have given my generation a new way to reconnect and learn how each other is doing on a deeper level that we had in the past. And, in turn, we receonnect with our childhood muses, our formative friends’ muses and channel joy and creativity we might have otherwise hurdled in the high-jump of activity.

We are so much alike that we can connect in a community and encourage, learn and share together in a relative instant and it’s a new muscle working the strength of our spirits. Friends, relatives, causes all need support and we can provide it for each other.

So on it goes, this Saturday VIBe. The afternoon arrives, someone somewhere comforts somebody and another changes a diaper. On we move, together around the Sun. Another hour, another 66,000 miles through space and the miracle of loving each other. And Neil Young’s lyrics and music run through my head as my soul alights.

That’s all I know  — or need to — right now. Except that, one of these days………

– 30 –

Pinckney, MI — (originally posted 11/2/03) The rain has stopped for now on this early Sunday morning. It’s been on and off, like a soft spring rain, but instead of feeding the flowers the fall rain is gently urging trees and shrubs to sleep.

The drops wash the trees  of summer growth before a long, cold sleep well-deserved after another summer of displaying beauty.

Formations of sparrows depart and arrive on rosebush runways and dart down into their secure home among the sharp vines that repel cats and other predators while the birds sleep. Daytime is spent pecking at the thorny branches for water drops and food.

Most bright gold and fire-red leaves have left their summer homes on the branches,  spiraled slowly and softly to the ground and occupy every inch of available space on the lawn they used to live above.

Sometimes they fall in seemingly ecstatic groups, released from their vines en masse like children out the door after the last day of school. Other times, they fall one by one, right after or right next to each other as if the neighborly bond on vine joins them inseparably.

Many still cling reluctantly to the branches today, not ready to lay flat and wet on concrete or grass. Combined with those that have fallen, a panorama view of trees and ground makes for a brilliancy in contrast and colors. The sight reminds me of the small Van Gogh brushstrokes in his self-portrait which, viewed up close, seem seperate and unconnected but from afar make a perfect unified image.

And if it’s November, it must be time to return to the consistent patting on my keyboard to verbose on Vinman’s Verbosity.

If it’s nearly November, it’s time to continue writing and clean the gutters. It’s time to bring the summer furniture inside and get the gas mixed with two-cycle oil so the snow blower is ready. It’s time to unleash the positive energy the summer brought and it’s time to get in the pool at 6 a.m. and swim for my life every other day.

November in the Midwest has become the best month for me to get rid of neglect in my life. To ward off the blues of short days, snowy nights and cold mornings, I’ll remember the words of the best personal trainer in the land, Jimmy V:

Neglect: We’ve all heard the expression, “An apple a day keeps the doctor away.” Well, I’ve got a good question for you: What if it’s true? Wouldn’t that be easy to do – to eat an apple a day? Here’s the problem: It’s also easy not to do.Neglect starts out as an infection then becomes a disease.

So tonight, I will cherish the quiet, the peaceful darkness outside my windows and the sounds of our house as a prelude to even shorter days and colder nights.

If you get the chance, wish some of your falling leaves well. They’ll appreciate it as they fall to their sleep. Your soul will be warmed for encouraging them.

© Copyright Vincent J. Kern — 2003 All Rights Reserved

It an unbelievable first full day at Squaw Beach Camp.

Named “Knot 4 Nuttin,” our small cottage is looking out on the best beach day one could hope for. Low 80’s, not a cloud in the sky and a breeze that is more soothing than blowing.

More folks here than we expected, but they are warm lovely people we have not seen in some time. There’s solitude for the taking, beach time if one wants and plenty of distant boat activity to watch if needed for entertainment.

So instead of writing, I’ll just post a few early photos taken as stills from my video camera as we forgot the battery charger (lithium) for our small camera:

(c) Photo by Vincent J. Kern — 2003 — Copyright and All Rights reserved

I’m leaving today on a venture to build one of these.

A fire.

But not just an ordinary fire.

I will build a fire of the soul.

A fire that burns away the ordinary toxins that accumulate in my inner-being and block my muse.

And a fire that returns imagination, peace, vision and clarity after quiet visual focus on its magical moving miracle.

The Vibe in my house as we prepare to depart can only be summed up this way: GRAY. Dark clouds move in slowly as if making an attempt to arrive unnoticed. My oldest cat seems to already sense something is amiss in his world. He sits next to me on a box staring, asking for love, which of course he gets.

But this is breakaway day, the day I’ve been waiting for and I must move on.

Off to The Place of solitude, beauty, and the awesome confines of water and sky, unabated on Squaw Beach.

Alone there for the first time since 1995, there will be unique freedoms for us this trip.

And so it begins this morning, now 7:45 o’clock. We’re behind the game, but there is no rush…it just doesn’t matter when we leave or arrive on this Venture.

Yet, it is time to turn my attention to other things, away from writing and on to preparations, packing and departure. Sometime tonight, the first destination — the beach, will have been obtained. Then it’s off to the second, my inner soul.

Fewer miles to traverse to get to my inner-being, but it’s still a deep journey through the universe into my soul that could take days.

–30–