Mark Gowan's Blog, page 17

Jazz

There is something in a thoughtful melody, one which has been lovingly created. There is a beauty in the ability to conjure up an idea and make it come to life only to have it grow and expand, evolve into the moment.

There is something human in listening. And that is what jazz is. To play it one must listen and respond. One must create lovingly and without a goal other than beauty itself. Jazz is musically virtuous. When played it is a good in itself.

There is something gratifying in the ability to play jazz. It is technical and difficult and takes time, and practice. It is often not easily accessible or readily accepted. It has expectations itself and does not suffer mediocrity. The ability to play an instrument well is a lifelong endeavor. Jazz reminds those that will play it that they will never play it as well as they want to.

There is something elated about music for music’s sake. In a world full of shortcomings and short-sighted goals, jazz refuses to be a product. It is above that and stands in its arrogance proudly and unapologetic. It flies high above the noise and nuisance of the unimportant.

Expectations

Expectations are difficult to let go, but it is necessary to let them go. They will always let you down. Whether it is an old friend that is in town and doesn’t call or it is a plan that didn’t come to fruition. Expectations, we have to remember, are our own. They were not done to us. We chose them ourselves.

That is not to say that one’s word is not to be held, or that we should not be good to our own word. Expectations are not like that. Expectations are more like hope. They grow because of a desire we have or how we feel. One’s word is one’s promise. It is integrity and character. One’s word defines them. It makes them who they are. Expectations are simply a desire for something that may or may not be true.

Friendships begin as expectations, and on those rare occasions they blossom into true relationships. A friend’s word is something to be trusted and to be held in high esteem. The expectation of friendship is an illusion. Sometimes a plant grows. Sometimes it dies.

We might like to think that our expectations are based upon truths. But, they are not. Just as friendships must grow into trusting relationships, expectations must be understood as what they are: a hope for something with the understanding of that nothing may be.

Time

Of all the ways that be thought of to show someone, to show something your love, to show that you care, time is the most precious. To give someone your time is to give of yourself. It is your time to give and you will never get it back. It will be gone forever.

And yet we sometimes, when we think, we we realize, when we become aware, give our time to others and think nothing of it. But to really, really give your time takes concentration and intention. It takes self awareness. Simply to be in someone’s presence is not enough. It is nothing.

Giving someone your time is to listen and to pay attention. It is to put all other things aside and to find it in yourself to care enough to forget, forget about yourself. It is a gift that is not easy to give. It is that little silence that we put aside for another day only to find that the day past us long ago.

The world is filled with people with ample time to give and perhaps they desire to give it. But it just seems like they, it seems like we, forget. It is easy to do, to lose track of time. And when we do we do not have it to give. And we say: we do not have time.

But time is something we we have all of the time. We often fetter it away, not thinking of what we are losing and why we are losing it. So why not give someone your time. YOUR time is a gift that only you can give. It is most personal and intimate gift we can give.

It is not all we have, but it is all that matters.

Perspectives

There are Things…

Taking Jack to the airport at 3am for a drop off was painful. I certainly shed a tear but I had hope that out west where he was going, that he would find a home. I wanted to be that home but it was not to be. I handed him over and helped into a small kennel. I put his favorite toys into the kennel and when I stood up I looked down and looked at his sorrowful eyes looking up at me.

He wasn’t making a sound and this was odd. He hated kennels. During the past few weeks he had hurriedly become a part of our household, making himself at home and irritating our old dog, Maggie. He was happy and would not let me out of his sight. He went everywhere with us and when we did have to leave him alone, waited patiently.

Jack was a foster that had a “planned outcome”, so it was called, in Utah.

I don’t make any allusions to the fact that fostering can be difficult, especially with a companion such as Jack. But fostering helps dogs out of situations that are not so good and into situations that are hopefully loving and secure. Fostering is fulfilling but be ready to leave a piece of your self with the animal that you foster. The hope is that there is enough to go around, enough for the next, and the next.

If there were issues, it was with people, not with Jack or any other dog including one we tried to foster before and simply didn’t work out. So I’ve been told by others that they couldn’t foster because they couldn’t bear thought of letting go but I cannot bear the thought of animals in need not getting the help. It is simple to do and although painful, fostering is a way to do good for an animal that often has little chance if any.

I will miss Jack and continue to do so, but I will find another to foster, to help, because there are things that are worth bearing the pain and shedding the tears for.

No Time

There are many platitudes that hide in the shadows of excuses. There are many fears disguised by procrastination. But there is no greater shame than having no time. As time goes by we become comfortable in our excuses and procrastinated plans are forgotten. A blinder replaces the blue skies of possibility.

We have time. That is all that we have. We sell our time cheaply or give it away to the shiny machinery that makes up our days or we can choose to value that which we do have. There is a chance to start but there is no way to bring back the days spent wasting precious time. Time is a one way street.

There is no time to waste. There is no better time than now. There is yet time but no time like now.

Music

There’s a magic to music. Take the time to find it. If you don’t play, then listen. Listen closely. In the pieces it can be heard. That is, the feeling of the musicians and their abilities, their willingness to listen to each other.

Music can be ignored but it cannot be dismissed. There are those times when playing, sometimes late at night on a stage to an empty club, drunks at the bar, no one paying any attention, TV’s blaring, when the magic happens. It might be between the bassist and the drummer, or the guitarist hitting a particular note at a particular time.

Music can be analyzed and understood and still be an allusive and rare species. There are many pathways to “it” but “it” changes. “It” is not a destination or a goal, just a temperamental touch of time in a passing slice of space. There are people who are musicians and there are people who are able to play music. The difference is the ability to recognize the magic when it happens, if it happens, and to be able to tell the difference.

Music is a language that takes a lifetime to learn it is one of the few things that is actually worth it.

Evil

At the animal shelter of any town or city one can see, firsthand, the final results of ignorance and greed, of those that bring down the rest of us, that take away the good in a community. It is easy to recognize and difficult to face. There is no place for cynicism or complacency. It is there, staring you in the face with frightened eyes, or anger, or defeat, and even hope.

It could be that those that create the need for these places have reasons to feel forlorn, forgotten. It could be that they themselves were or are abused. It could be many things that bring an individual to break a spirit, or to answer a hopeful look with a violent attack. It could be drugs. It could be depression. But there is one thing that it could not be; that is, it could not be a person.

A person wouldn’t create an innocent and broken spirit. A person would not cause panic and pain. A person would not do the things that it takes to create an being that no longer wants to be a part of the world that it has been thrown into. A person could not look at the faces at an animal shelter and feel nothing, feel a disconnect, or feel the need to inflict even more evil.

And that is what it is. Evil. There is no other word, no other concept. Evil is not given to humanity, it is made. It is in the faces of those that have experienced it. At the animal shelter of any town or city one can see, firsthand, the final results of evil.

All the While

Perspectives change and change they should. The bubbles that we live in daily are facades, they are buildings that we have erected and have been erected for us. every brick shields us from the ever-changing reality that just sometimes becomes too much. They are so much a part of our lives that we hardly notice them. After time they themselves become our realities.

We all love our own perspectives. they are, after all, those things that define us. This, we are told, is the ultimate goal of life: to build a lovely life filled with good things and to like ourselves. And this is the goal as long as it is not at the cost of all else. Perspectives exist within a reality and they have consequences within that reality. They affect that reality and visa-versa. That is how it should be.

But perspectives have a way of creating their own realities. They have a way of shielding us from things that might change them, that might change the way we think. They have a way of parenting our decisions, and holding an ever-protective defense over our eyes. And while this happens and we go about our lovely lives filled with good things, the bricks are laid.

Soon we forget who we are and what we are, and we don’t realize what we’ve become. Good and bad cease to have meaning outside of our own opinions. Arguments become ideologies and reality becomes what we want it to be. And all the while…

The Cowboy

The cowboy’s life is sometimes a hard one. He stays up night worrying about the days.

And when the light comes over the horizon he promises himself to mend his ways.

And the years roll by like the highway beneath him and he knows he’s been trying to hide.

Hide from the truth that life is mistreating and it’ll beat you down until you cry.

He’s been taught that crying is wrong and he’s been told to lie is a sin.

He believes that there’s someone somewhere who will on day understand just where he’s been.

The cowboy knows that time is sacred and he knows that life is short.

The cowboy feels each heart that’s broken and he cries a tear.

So if your a cowboy that tired of fighting and you feel that life has let you down.

Find a road that leads you somewhere and wait for the good to come back around.

Because life’s not fair for the cowboy but life doesn’t care who you are.

Life goes on for the cowboy, but he never knows just how far.