Relative Something

I haven’t claimed time to write this weekend amid the wild fun and games, eating too much delicious food, and exploring the late-winter ice of the lake, so I will offer one quick snapshot from yesterday’s hike. The north woods of Wisconsin, with good friends, is a really wonderful way to spend a weekend!

This morning we find ourselves at our favorite place, with friends. We headed out of town yesterday on a trip to Hayward, WI for the weekend, where our children and two families of friends have gathered. There isn’t much in the way of viable snow cover to enjoy, but there is a lake-full of frozen water. With the moon looming large overhead last night, we wandered out on the lake for an exploratory excursion and found a few marvels of leaf impressions melted up to an inch deep, and a couple sticks that we extracted as if executing a full size version of the battery-operated game of physical skill, “Operation.”

photo by Mike Wilkus

Then we gathered round, but not around the fire. The center of attention was Julian’s new iPad, on which we instantly composed eight bars of a joint composition on electronic instruments. Fun with friends in a fun place at a fun time of year.

Happy supermoon Saturday!

What a difference a year can make. It’s March Madness time again, and for reasons that escape me, I have developed little interest in the drama this year. I am intrigued that the big college basketball tourney has failed to capture my attention, after several years previous in which I found myself trying to see every game. I’ve not filled out any brackets this year, so I don’t even know all the teams playing.

It turns out to be okay with me this weekend, as I am scheduled to be out of town with friends. We’ll be heading up to Hayward and I expect will do very little watching of sports on television. What else we will be doing is hard to know, what with the snow cover fast dissolving around these parts.

I sense, eating and the playing of cards. For me, this year it is March gladness.

It is probably not obvious, without my explaining, how little I have had to do with horses over my lifetime. Granted, there were horses boarded in one of the barns on the farm where I first lived. It seems to me, such exposure early in life could just as easily have spawned a deep interest in horses. Instead, I felt no particular attraction.

In my lifetime since, I bet the number of interactions with horses could be counted on one hand. That is, until our visit last fall to Ian’s Forest Garden Estate in Portugal.

Still, even after two weeks last September discovering the wonder of horses, I sure never sensed how moved I would be to unexpectedly see a picture of the newest member of the herd. Sunday afternoon I saw the first picture that Ian posted of their new foal, Gretel. It was incredibly moving.

Just one still image, but speaking those thousands of words. I immediately –urgently, even– began hollering for Cyndie. Her response overshadowed mine, exponentially.

Something deep within me senses the powerfulness of horses now, and the incredible significance of such an event; something beyond my current level of understanding. I don’t think I need to fully understand. I just accept what I witness.

Congratulations, Ian, and welcome to the world, Gretel!

I find it interesting to contemplate the coincidence of timing for significant events, and how the measure of significance is a relative one. What is deemed to be newsworthy changes quickly, but the events play out anyway, regardless the attention paid. The impact of death of an individual is lost to all but the closest people, if it happens at the same time that thousands are killed in a catastrophe.

Political conflicts, where interested parties often struggle for attention to bolster their cause, fall off the radar in the shadow of cataclysms that demand response from countries around the world.

Today there are people facing the prospect of not having any clean water to drink, their world in shambles, rumbling with aftershocks and a looming nuclear meltdown. I cannot think of one significant thing in my life that doesn’t pale in comparison. What may have been important to me last week, just doesn’t hold that same measure in comparison to events in Japan.

May all of our petty concerns be revealed for the trivial nature they really are, every day, regardless the number of coincident catastrophes that come about to present more dramatic reference.

I can never remember, is it, feed a cold, starve a fever, or the other way around? Doesn’t really matter. Cyndie’s solution for most any ill is, feed it. I have been bed ridden for a couple days now, allowing a cold to do its worst. I have also been facing waves of food coming at me. I am at the mercy of both. For one thing, the food feels good on my throat. Then there is my desire to accept the love that Cyndie is delivering in the form of food. Most of all, it distracts me from feeling punky.

It’s just a run of the mill cold, but it is reducing me to a whimpering seven-year-old boy. What boy doesn’t like food being brought to him? It does align with my ongoing child-like attitude. However, I do look forward to feeling my old health returning soon. Time to grow up, I guess. Again.

Last night I enjoyed the pleasure of watching my former high school’s hockey team, the Eden Prairie Eagles, emerge victorious from their first game of this year’s Minnesota State High School Hockey Tournament. It was the first time I’ve seen them play this year and I was duly impressed. The team is #1 seed in the tourney. I hope they achieve continued success.

Of course, the star players attract the majority of attention, but I was seeing some amazing effort and production from the supporting cast. It is a shame that the sublime beauty of a perfect pass is so easily overlooked and under-rewarded. The players know when it happens. Truly engaged fans notice that it happens. But, if a goal doesn’t immediately result, it’s just a pass like so many other to the inattentive eye.

It occurred to me that this same thing probably translates to other aspects of life.

Give some thought to what our inattention is overlooking and under-appreciating.

It is Thursday. It is March. I have a cold. Life goes on.

Yesterday morning when I opened the garage door and exposed myself to the day, it wasn’t the new snow that first caught my attention. Granted, the snow was a primary feature, albeit a relative small amount of new coverage. What made the biggest impression was the cheery spring-like sound of birds.

Later in the day, when I stepped out from work to run an errand, what I found most remarkable was how clear and dry the roads were already, after the overnight snowfall. In a little over a week, we will have reached the vernal equinox. The prediction for these parts is to expect near-record flooding as the snow-pack melts.

I sure hope my lungs will have long ago cleared of the congestion brought on by this cold.

I can sense things changing. Meanwhile, it’s just Thursday. It’s March. Birds are singing. Life goes on.