Vagabonding Detoured - A Not-So Cautionary Tale

Tonight (Wednesday, 28th June, '06) was supposed to be one of two nights with me doing the Vagabond Astronomer thing in front of Books-a-Million in Mandarin. By 7:30 pm, it was looking like that wasn't going to be happening, so I decided to just go to BaM and look for a few magazines and have a coffee.
I should have brought my telescopes.
As I was leaving, I discovered, much to my chagrin, that the western sky had cleared up sufficiently to show a thin, sliver, fingernail clipping of a crescent Moon hanging in the twilight. Not only that, both Mars and Saturn were visible below it, and Jupiter glowed steadily high in the sky.
I've written before that I normally have two telescopes on standby in my car at all times. Since my car was broken into last week, however, they no longer reside there and instead rest comfortably inside. Now, here I was, perfect opportunity... and no scopes. There were a couple of options. I could race home and grab some scopes... but I had already informed the folks at BaM that it wouldn't be happening tonight. The other option was to do it anyway, but there were still enough clouds in the sky to not tempt cruel fate; I knew for certain that if I did grab my equipment, not only would the clouds return, but they'd no doubt be accompanied by a deluge the moment I set up. Final option - accept my fate and simply go home. That's the one I chose.
Once I got home, however, I couldn't leave well enough alone. I raced upstairs and grabbed my old 76mm Newtonian "George". It is certainly light enough to be carried quickly. Instead of my usual three eyepieces, I grabbed a lone 20mm, and went back outside to the water's edge, an area thick with mosquitoes and no-see-ums. You see, in my haste, I failed to grab repellent.
Still, it was worth it. Some of the neighborhood kids came up, and I had a chance to show them the Moon, Jupiter and Saturn before the bugs got to be too much. After thirty minutes, and what surely must have been a liter of blood lost, I packed it in and went back inside.
Did I learn something? Yes, I guess I did. Always be prepared; I jumped the gun when I took my equipment out of the trunk, which really is impenetrable without the key. Need to keep at least one decent scope with me. Also, be flexible. One opportunity lost might mean another opportunity elsewhere. The children in my apartment complex are poor, and may never have another chance to look through a telescope. In that regard, I gave them something they might have missed.
So, when the road of life throws you a detour, just follow it. You never quite know where it will lead.

The Loneliest Creatures

There seems to be one flaw in life that is extremely hard to overcome. Humans are intrinsically alone. You can be lying next to someone, but still, you are trapped in your own skin. You can never really understand what the other person is thinking, what they are feeling. We can only imagine, and maybe those of us who are more empathetic can get a better understanding. Still, we have no idea.
Instead, we have to rely on the actions and the words of others to indicate what they may (or may not) be feeling or thinking. Are these the best indicators? Of course not; true human intention can always be shrouded. Instead, we have to rely on trust and faith, the latter being more of a spiritual nature than the former; trust is usually earned, while faith is always deeper and more intuitive.
We go about our lives hoping that those we interact with feel the same, feel for us, are capable of feeling altogether. You can usually tell much about someone by the people they associate with they say, and I guess to an extent that's true. Still, truer intentions can be hidden, and no one would be the wiser. Lacking telepathy, humans have to hope. It's all we have in a very real sense.
I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve. For some reason, I feel it is important for those around me to know what I'm thinking, for better or for worse. I tend to be passionate about everything, everyone, in my life; that is fraught with problems, because passion is a flame that can burn many ways, good and bad. It is who I am, however. I don't hide behind facades. On the Internet, I am always known by my real name, and even the Vagabond Astronomer is Robert Little. I alter who I am for different people, but those alterations are still me. It is my attempt to be true, honest, to others. Yet I'm not perfect. Who am I kidding, no one is perfect, and I am certainly as far from it as anyone else. In attempts to not hurt others, many times I hide what is really on my mind at times (and sometimes those periods can stretch on for years). I try to be as true as I can, and hope sincerely for the same from others. I fail. We fail.
I think that's why humans want that connection with others, even when we say that we want to be alone. We're always alone, really. Many times, the only way we feel human is by connection, whether romantic or casual or professional, we seek connection. When those connections are lost, no matter how tenuous, we ourselves feel lost. We find ourselves wandering, wondering, trying to find that connection or trying to build others, seeking like the blind and not really sure how to. We want to trust, have faith and hope. It's all we can do, though, because in the end, humans are the loneliest creatures. The best we can do in this life is comfort each other as best we can and simply be there. The rest... we have to wait and see.

The Best Days Of Our Lives?

I can't help but notice the popularity of classic stations on the air these days. Notice I say "classic", not "classical". Yes, stations that play classic rock, country and even pop. Americans seem to be rather hung up on nostalgia for nostalgia's sake. Maybe that's not the case, though. At least for me it isn't.
Until a few years ago, I'd find myself listening to some of this older music and reminiscing about "the good ol' days". That is really such a superfluous term. What, or more to the point when were the good ol' days? For me and my rampant nostalgia, it was a period between 1976 and 1981, the better part of junior and senior high school. That's five years, ladies and gentlemen. Five years out of a life that has the potential to span over seventy, perhaps over eighty. Five years. That's a drop in the bucket in a typical human life.
For me, some how, those years seemed to be the best. But why? At the time, and here I'm referring to the period I was lost in the reminiscences, they were like a beacon of hope in a life filled with despair. Ah, sigh. My life was so miserable at that point that I felt that escaping to when I was a teenager seemed the only thing to do. Those songs from that period, by Styx, Boston, the Eagles, Paul McCartney and Wings, even my beloved ELO, all represented a better, simpler time in my life.
Oh, yes, it was better. Sure, yeah. The prospects for a teenager are really not that great. Let's be honest; when we were teenagers, all we wanted to be were adults. In retrospect, it seems that our teen selves were simply horrified at being teenagers. That period of our life we wanted to get behind us ASAP and get on with living.
When I reminisce about my reminiscing, I find it all very funny now. Tragic, but funny. Think of all the wasted time I spent, head phones on, listening to "More Than A Feeling" and trying, very hard, to remember what it was like being 13. And there I was, in my late 30's. Instead of living, I was reliving, over and over again. Oh, yes, to be 13 again. Give me a break!
I listen to those songs now with the wisdom that three decades has brought. Some of those songs seem very pretentious now. Most of them seem rather over produced and insincere. That's not to say they're bad... they just don't seem that important now. But as a starry eyed teenager, they seemed oh so important.
Perhaps its the advance of time that's brought me to this point. I've entered my forties, and now those things in life that I had once set out to do seem more important than ever. The time I've spent bellyaching and wallowing in self pity for wasted time was itself wasted time. The best days of our lives can be any time, at any point in our lives. We can choose to sit around and listen to ghosts from our pasts... or we can move on and face the challenges of our lives in the here, the now and tomorrow. We have the ability to decide when our lives are at their best.

"The Same Old Sun"

The Alan Parson's Project was one of my favorite bands as a young man. I had all of their albums up until 1987, and like many philosophical youth, found meaning in the lyrics of their songs. For the most part, the songs, lyrics written by Eric Woolfson, were dark. Every now and then, though, songs would shine through as uplifting. One such song is the last number on their 1985 album, "Vulture Culture". The song is titled "Same Old Sun".
When compared with the rest of the album, it is very melancholy but then suddenly becomes uplifting, a fascinating song to say the least. For me, it held a very important place; I picked up the albim as I was leaving the Army after a remarkably short enlistment and a medical discharge. The song has extremes; "Tell me what to do, now the light in my life is gone from me, is it always the same is the night never ending?" to the chorus "And the same old Sun will rise in the morning, the same bright stars will welcome me home, and the clouds will rise way over my head, I'll get through my life on my own." In the end, the song is about hope in the face of loss.
Think about the subject of the song for a moment. I certainly did the other day, as I was driving down Jacksonville's newly completed SR-9A. Just north of the University of North Florida, the highway is elevated over sensitive wetlands populated by thick groves of magnolia trees. These trees were in full bloom that mid June day, covered with thousands of white blossoms that just shown against the dark understory like botanical stars against a universe of dark green. It didn't matter my state of mind at the time, they were going to bloom regardless. For them, life goes on, as it does for everything. And overhead, the Sun shown just as it had since its creation and will do for a long time yet.
In that instant, I felt suddenly insignificant. But not unimportant.
Each and everyone of us has a role to play in this drama we call life. We may be bit players, we may have major roles. Regardless, we are all here for some reason. We just dont't know what it is, ultimately. It is easy to let the troubles we have and had overwhelm us. It is easy to look upon the ocean and the night and the sky and that thick magnolia forest and feel that we don't matter at all, that perhaps it is best if we were to simply disappear into those places, perhaps that we would make the world a better place, or at least ease our own pain and suffering.
Pain and suffering, though, are usually transient events. If we have strength enough, they soon pass or at least grow distant. In time, if we believe in ourselves and God, the pain soon becomes a memory. It is simply a matter of getting through the difficulty and remembering that even though there may be darkness in our lives, that life will go on if we let it.
And the same old Sun will rise in the morning.

For Daphne.

Mockingbird Revisited

It's pretty blustery out there today, as Florida braces for tropical storm Alberto. I was driving in, watching the clouds moving along in a northerly direction when I caught sight of my favorite bird doing something it does best.
A lone crow was sitting atop a telephone pole just about half a mile from my job. As it sat there, a mockingbird made repeated dives at it. Truly amazing. Consider the audacity; here's the little mockingbird attacking a bird many times its size. Crows aren't slouches, either; they can turn and get pretty vicious if provoked (I've seen adolescent crows mob a redtailed hawk before, inflicting serious injury). The mockingbird seems unfazed by this possibility and just continues the assault.
I've written about mockingbirds before, noting how their song seems to paint a picture of the area where they live (incidentally, I found out that my assumption was correct!). Today just reinforced my fascination. As usual, yes, I can tie this back to life in general.
Why should the mockingbird attack a larger animal?
There is an honesty in their actions. The mockingbird attacks the crow (and at other times other larger animals, including humans) for the sake of their community. Crows and other larger animals pose a potential threat to them. Lone mockingbirds work to drive away these threats, even in the face of real danger. Are they aware of this? God knows. But their sense of preservation seems to be skewed; they could be turned victim, yet continue these assaults. Like brave little Minutemen, they fight the good fight.
By the time I passed the mockingbird and crow, another three mockingbirds had joined in the fray and the threat was finally driven off. One lone mockingbird continued pursuing the crow until it flew into a patch of rain soaked pines.
Whether the mockingnirds are aware of it or not, they have something to tell us. If a smaller creature has such an innate sense of duty, what does it say about larger, more sentient creatures? The little mockingbird, fighting against considerable odds, is far braver and more honest than even the best of us, it seems. Perhaps we need to be more like them.

Being Human & Other Disasters

In my 43 years upon this planet, I've come to discover one thing, one truth, that stands out above all else.
We're extraordinarily good at being human.
Admittedly, that sounds bad. Well, perhaps not bad, but perhaps a bit too general. What does it take to be human anyway?
It is so tempting to say that the most basic part of being human is an incredible ability to cause chaos. Recently, in a forum I belong to (Distributism at Yahoo Groups), one of our members launched into a debate concerning the debasement of human nature and how, for the last 2000 years, it has led to the gradual decline in the quality of life and the degradation of humanity in general. It is so easy to see that... we spend perhaps too much time concentrating on the negative aspects of being human. One only has to look at the daily news to see just how debase we can be. How can we be good when it seems that all around us us proof that we are otherwise? That seems such a gross statement of the facts. How can we believe that human nature is wicked when we look into a child's eyes, or gaze in wonder upon those wonderful artistic achievements or listen to heart stirring music, also human in their creation?
The funny thing is... we make mistakes. We learn from them. We go on. It's called learning. It's how we grow. Sometimes the mistakes are grandiose whoppers; I've been guilty of a few of those. Perhaps more than a few. You can't dwell on them, though. To do so is to admit that there is no hope. It can lead to paralysis of decision, an inability to do anything. We can wallow in the disaster and let it consume us... or we can rebuild and move on. Many times, these mistakes, these disasters, lead to better things. Sometimes, they don't. But if we persevere, hang on to hope and remember, as my PDA has been programmed to remind me everyday at 11:55am, that this is only temporary. we can get by. All things pass, both good... and bad. All we need is time and enough strength to get through them.
How much strength, though? The late Richard Pryor once said that he'd rather run from a fight than actually get in one, because a broken pride heals much faster than a broken arm. And it's true. It is so easy to let a bad situation eat us up, eat us alive and leave us feeling hollow. Is that really necessary? To what good is it? Physical pain is bad enough, but mental anguish only exist if we allow it to.
And that's the trick we must learn. Oh, trust me here, I am as guilty as the next poor soul when it comes to mental anguish... three suicide attempts are in my past. Looking back on them, though, I can't help but wonder... what would have happened had I just given up, say in 1978, 2000 or 2001? I'd have never graduated, I'd have never gotten out of a bad situation alive and I'd have never started this wonderful journey I am now on. It's still hard, trust me. When it comes to self loathing, I'm an expert.
Then, that little PDA goes off and reminds me.
We're human. We make mistakes. We're chaotic. We also make children, art, music, love. We're the only species alive on this planet that has an understanding of our place in the Creation. We're children of God. Rough times pass. Disasters end. We carry on.