Head-dibs

Have you ever noticed that you feel compelled to do something when you hear or read a good story? You can’t quite put your finger on it but there is this knowledge that you want to take some kind of action, like be a better person. Sure, we like to read or listen to something for entertainment, but what remains when we are finished? Warm fuzzies that ultimately dissipate and get lost in the shuffle of the day. It’s nearly impossible to recall that feeling once it’s gone. But there are some elements we encounter that leave a lasting impression because we are impelled take some kind of action. Remember those tomes of literature we used in high school and college. Did you ever notice how many discussions were had over those stories? If you still have one, crack it open and notice the questions at the end of each contribution. How many imparted some kind of moral lesson or set an example to be followed? Perhaps you did not notice your conscience responding to what you read or heard yet you

Now that the pump’s been primed, I’ve been taking mental notes on what to write again. One individual came drifting out of past memory who might well have been the person who started it all: Mrs. Satterwhite. I hope she’ll forgive the way in which I remember her, for I was in second or third grade when in her care. I remember her foremost as The Great Storyteller and I am confident that if we were to gather any other now grown school children, they too might have the same memory of her storytelling.   I recall her in a nearly cartoonish way (again, I hope she’ll forgive me). While not being quite sure of her age, I remember her grandmotherly silhouette. She was a fairly large woman, maybe in her 50’s or 60’s, who wore flowery dresses and heavy shoes. Her legs were stout and covered by that kind of half-stockings that never seemed to stay up. Her hair was shoulder length and kept in the style of an older woman in the early 1970’s.  During recess, she sat in a chair under the sprawling p

Seneca asked, “How does it help to make misfortune heavier by complaining about it?” Another way to ask this would be, “Did complaining help? Then stop. If not, then stop.” I manage a staff of mostly young adults who are like sponges as they listen to elder employees complain and complain and complain. I confess, there are times when I complain as well, but then I am aware of who is listening. One older fellow always has something to say, dropping his comments like little bombs then walks away thinking all his words are going to change anything. But then he only walks away because I’ve asked him, “did all that help? No? Then you can stop now.” Complaining does nothing but reveal who a person really is, and for the most part, complaints merely mean there has been a disruption to one’s comfort zone, that something is beyond their control or that the person feels entitled and is not getting their way. Ever notice how most complaining at a restaurant is committed before eating? People are

"Good writing," pens best-selling author, thinker, and podcaster Malcolm Gladwell, "does not succeed or fail on the strength of its ability to persuade. It succeeds or fails on the strength of its ability to engage you, to make you think, to give you a glimpse into someone else's head."  Part of my work-daily routine since July 2020 is the nearly 2-hour commute to and from work. I've drifted through hours of music, audiobooks, phone calls, or just spending quiet time drifting through my head. Not much in there anymore, it seems. The head to the soul/spirit is like the stomach to the body--it must be fed. All these months I've wrestled with life as it now is and truthfully, I hate it. For nearly 20 years I worked in my niche and then everything changed. My routine was destroyed and I've struggled to find a way to piece back a semblance of what I had, which included feeding my soul and strengthening my spirit. Anyone who knows me understands how import

 The Classics don’t stand a chance

This grabbed my attention this evening as I was reading. Such beauty.

  This is why classical philosophy is preferred over present-day so-called philosophy. (Holiday & Hanselman, “Lives of the Stoics” p. 69)

 From Shakespeare’s “Love’s Labor Lost”