Note: I offer this only as a version with an open heart and understanding that words cannot do justice at a time like this. However, I can say that comfort comes with the company of those we love and those who choose to gather with us are the comfort we need in times of loss. Although this entry is titled with Moms in mind; truth is truth in all realms of life. And so, with all of my heart – I offer you this.
Continue readingCategory Archives: A Little From The Abstract
Monday Morning Motivation – 4/25/22
There is a go-ahead sign to think and be. “You should be who you are,” right? But then of course, there is the truth behind the models and the smiles and the name tags which, in fairness – I have to say it, I call bullshit.
Now, I do my best to never use profanity in my prose, especially in the first paragraph, in fear that some grammar-police critic will come along and slash the heart of my thoughts and point at every flaw. But still,
I call bullshit.
Abstract Prose: Truth
We wake up and we look around.
what do we see?
I often wonder if we know what we’re looking at.
I also wonder if any of this is real?
Is most of what we see an illusion?
The world. Each other. Life and liberty. The pursuit of happiness –
What are these things?
What is any of this if not an idea or lofty concept of life, which we are taught about and hope for?
I wonder.
Continue readingAbout a Drive and Some Music
Breathe – It’s time to get away to a place where the destination is unknown.
There was a trip I took that began with no intention, other than to get away. I had no direction or reservation to be anywhere at any specific time. No, this was a whim or no, this was a long drive to nowhere.
By now, I’m sure you know that I love these rides. I allow the turn of a key to switch more than just the ignition. To be clear, the playlist is important on rides like this one. You have to pick the right music and once the door shuts and the seatbelt comes around the chest; once the buckle clasps itself into the holder; the car goes in reverse to pull out from the driveway and then in drive to move ahead.
And that’s it. Off we go.
Stream of Consciousness/Insomnia Prose – Just a Flow
I find myself in the night, thinking about the midnight air at places like up high, or on rooftops in the city where moonlight dreams hush down along the blackness of a late night view along the Hudson River.
I find myself reminiscing of things that never really happened yet I reminisce about them as if they were real.
I find myself standing in the late night mindset. I stand where the air is still and the streets are quiet. As I look upwards to the midnight sky, I find myself wondering what happened to the dreams of a life beyond our hopes – or is it better to say the life we hoped for that was beyond our dreams.
Who knows?
Besides, this is just a quick moment of introspection.
The Secret of Interpretation
The secret is simple. Are you ready for this?
The secret of interpretation is there is no secret at all. I see what I see and you see what you see and no matter how we compare or relate, neither of us can fully prove that what we see are the same things.
I don’t know what blue looks like to you. I don’t know whether you relate to the coming of dawn and the colors of an autumn sky in the suburbs, about 45 miles east of New York City.
A Little From the Abstract: A Touch of Hope
Shakespeare wrote, “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” This comes from The Tempest. I come from a place called Project Earth. My location is often in the city that never sleeps. I am born of this and from this; I have devised that I am me, a New Yorker (Or Nu – Yawk- a, as my accent implies).
I have seen many things from the great to the grand and from the poor to the sad. I have witnessed comebacks that were beyond my belief or comprehension.
I have seen destruction at the levels of war and as a witness, I was there to see my skyline fall – I was there when my City nearly fell; only to rebuild itself differently. Regardless of the holes in the skyline or the missing towers or Twin Towers to be exact; equally, I witnessed a call to join hands. I saw what happens when people stand together, to build back what was destroyed, brick by brick.
A Taste of Nostalgia – From The Upper Hills and Old Times
It was later than autumn here on Project Earth. The cool winds intercepted the previous warmth of the September month. We had past the times when the leaves were changing and the woven tree-covered mountains took on the various colors of yellow, orange, purple and even red. The trees took on a sea of color to make the canopy of autumn more vibrant and alive.
I swear, one could walk outside and smell the aroma of the season. One could smell the hint of wood burning from fireplaces and escaping through chimneys to permeate the air. At this moment, I could feel the nostalgia. I could feel the memories and taste the emotions which I admit were bitter sweet and beautiful.
Just to Share
One of the more interesting stories to me in the business world is the story about a man named Paul O’Neill. This was a man who came into the role of CEO at a company called Alcoa (Aluminum Company of America.)
What interests me most about this is not the position O’Neill held or the fact that I remember the Alcoa commercials from when I was a kid. No, what I appreciate most about this story is O’Neill’s approach when he first started his role.
A Working Man’s Prose: A Sunday Night’s Thought
It rained. And the streets were wet but the afternoon sun came through the clouds to make the roads glisten. I can think of literally a thousand times when I have seen this before. I can think of the emotional background from when the afternoon looked this way.
And Sunday? Well, Sunday is more like a half-day to me. It is a day that’s partly a day off and partly a day of rest. It’s a day that’s partly holy or God-like with the streets filled with people in their Sunday bests and church goers. And, it’s a day that’s partly cut short in preparation for the work week ahead.
The Written Addiction 