December 18, 19, 20: It's Just Life, Christmas Craziness, Red Jacket Jamboree

For thousands more years, the mighty ships tore across the empty wastes of space and finally dived screaming on to the first planet they came across--which happened to be the Earth--where due to a terrible miscalculation of scale the entire battle fleet was accidentally swallowed by a small dog.

Those who study the complex interplay of cause and effect in the history of the Universe say that this sort of thing is going on all the time, but that we are powerless to prevent it.

"It's just life," they say.

Yes, this sounds about right when it comes to the cause and effect in the history of my universe, as well.  This kind of stuff goes on all the time in my life.  Battles, large and small, end with the snap of a terrier's jaws and a swallow.  Sometimes, problems that seem very large are actually minuscule in the grand scheme of things.

Yes, I have once again taken an extended hiatus from posting because of Christmas craziness.

So, here is a quick run-down of my last few days:

• Wednesday, December 18:  Up at 4:30 a.m.  Arrived at medical office by 6 a.m.  Christmas work potluck.  Secret Santa.  Ornament exchange.  Ate a lot of food I shouldn't have eaten.  Listened to my Christmas essay broadcast on the local Public Radio station.  Cleaned the church in the evening.  (The cleaning took much longer than usual, because it's winter and the marble floors needed to be mopped.  Still sporting some blisters from that one.)  Then I met with my musician friend, Linda, to talk about the music for a poetry reading I'm doing on Saturday.  Home.  Packed for trip to Calumet, Michigan, tomorrow afternoon.  Wrote my annual Christmas letter for my Christmas cards.  Ordered the pictures to go inside the Christmas cards with aforementioned letter.  Bed.
• Thursday, December 19:  Up at 4 a.m.  Got ready for work.  Arrived at medical office at 6 a.m.  Worked until 1 p.m.  Got copies of my annual Christmas letter.  Drove home.  Finished packing.  Took a very short nap.  Picked up by my friend, Harry.  Drove to Calumet.  (Probably the most relaxing time I've had this week.  Good, deep conversation with a friend I care a lot about.  He's a good guy.)  Arrived at the bed and breakfast around 5:30 p.m.  Ate some.  Talked some.  Wrote some.  Rehearsed some for the show tomorrow.  Went to nap some.  Didn't wake up until 5:30 this morning.

So, that's my life, in a very large nutshell, for the past two days.  Currently, I'm sitting in the kitchen nook of the bed and breakfast.  Two of the musicians' cars were impounded early this morning because they left them parked on the street.  For those of you not living in northern climes, there's this little thing called a winter parking ban that all cities in the Upper Peninsula put into effect during the snowy months.  If you leave your car parked overnight on a street, there will be one of two results:  1) you will receive a fairly hefty parking ticket, or 2) your car will be towed away and you will receive a fairly hefty parking ticket.  Option two was put into effect by the police patrolling the mean streets of Calumet last night.  Currently, my two friends are walking to the impound yard to retrieve their vehicles and pay the $125 impound fee.

Things are never boring in my life.  Ever.  I kind of would like boring every once in a while.  No drama.  No imminent catastrophes.  Just normal, day-to-day stuff like who's picking my son up from school, where are my eyeglasses, and I wonder if I left the iron on?  (Yes, that is a reference to the movie Airplane!)  This year, I seem to have been rolling from one crisis to another, with barely enough time to congratulate myself on surviving one crisis before the next one hits.  And this Christmas season has been particularly stressful, money-wise.  Last night, I had exactly $4.24 left in my banking and checking accounts combined.  I'm not sure what the definition of "working poor" is, but if I look it up in the dictionary, I'm afraid I'd find my picture next to it.

This whole day is going to be a whirlwind of show preparations.  I'm performing in the Red Jacket Jamboree this evening.  It has been two years since I've been involved with this radio show, and I've really grown to love all the people involved in it.  They've become family to me.  This morning, it will be script work.  This afternoon, it will be rehearsal in the theater (this time at the Rozsa Center on the campus of Michigan Technological University--a huge venue).  This evening, the performance.  It's kind of a scramble all day long from one deadline to another.

About now, you're thinking to yourself, "What is he getting at with this post?  What's his point?"  My first point is this:  my problems seem huge at the moment ($4.24 in my accounts, impounded cars), but they're really small in comparison to homelessness and hunger and war.  My second point is this:  if anybody has a little boring they're willing to loan me, I'll take it.  Sorry, I can't afford the down payment.  You'll have to extend me a boring credit line.

Saint Marty will be able to pay you back in about . . . five boring years.  It's just life.

October 29: It's Just Life, Grace, "The Peace of Wild Things"

Those who study the complex interplay of cause and effect in the history of the Universe say that this sort of thing is going on all the time, but that we are powerless to prevent it.

"It's just life," they say.

It's very easy--when life seems a little or a lot out of control--to simply walk through the day with blinders on.  I do it all the time, moving from one job to another, never taking a moment to breathe or relax or look around.  Even when I crawl into bed at night, my mind isn't focused on sleep.  It's focused on what I have to do the next day.

For the most part, there's not a whole lot of time for reflection in my daily life.  These blog posts are the closest I come.  Reflection is for people who have just one job that pays all the bills and leaves a little spending money behind.  Even with my four jobs, I don't seem to ever have spending money.  There's no such thing as "extra" cash in my household.

I'm not complaining.  I'm explaining why I always feel so driven every day.  It's how I survive my weird, hectic schedule.  Well, that and a whole lot of therapy.  In fact, I just had a session with my therapist this afternoon.  I'm not going to delve too deeply into what we discussed, but it was difficult stuff.  At the end of our time together, my therapist handed me a poem by Wendell Berry, because of a comment I made about never having a minute to rest.

This is the poem:

The Peace of Wild Things

by:  Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief.  I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light.  For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

After I was done reading this poem, I was in tears.  Again, my problems are complicated, and they are not the subject of this post.  The subject of this post is grace.  Every person deserves to rest "in the grace of the world" some time during the day.  For me, this poem is a reminder that grace is always available.  God sends us still water many times during a day.  Most of us--myself included--just don't take the time to notice it.

Tonight, however, I am going to try to hold off my despair for the world.  Instead, I will find some place where the wood drake rests and great heron feeds.  In my imagination.  In the stillness of my home.  In the wild places of my heart.

Saint Marty will be free for a few, fleeting minutes tonight.