meandering
Eighty-two degrees outside, clear, warm and steamy here on the Florida Gulf Coast. Yes, I could be out on 7H porch watching flashing navigation lights and the occasional light of a boat moving across StAndrews Bay, overhead a moon and Jupiter; but muggy hits me in the face as I slide the door open and go out for a quick look and return to the A/C, where Life is Good. Still dark yet, sunrise not until 5:55, more than an hour away as I loose the fingers.
"Loose the hounds," cries the queen of Harfang, Land of the Giants, as, returning from the hunt, she spots Pole, Scrubb, and Puddleglum the marshwiggle, the joyfully anticipated piece de resistance of their Autumn Feast, escaping into Underland. Narnia is never far from my mind, and recently I watched "The Silver Chair" again because someone stirred memories of teaching at HNES years ago.
What was I doing, what do I like to do in retirement here in 7H? The usual things, obviously a film now and then. Books, a book. Time considered, which means that my grandfather, and even my father, would be astonished if they showed up this morning and I tried to show and tell my connection to the world, my laptop, wifi and the internet, first thing some mornings I scroll my email and scan some overnight arrivals. From the Port, the Vessel Schedule lists Legiony Polskie, which we saw arriving and heading for East Terminal to offload lumber, but we missed her departure, already anchored at Lake Charles.
idou, I don't have to use up My Life's Time agonizing about politics and pandemics, abortion, firearms, freedom of religion, the U S Supreme Court, Jan 6, contraception, inflation, interracial marriage, gay unions, the 2024 election, senseless war. I can view Webb images of the Universe. I watch three baby ospreys in their nest in Grand Lake, Colorado. I play challenging solitaire card games online. I can chase down where ships are on oceans and in ports around the world. Now and then I follow a realtime website to monitor a ship out in the Gulf as she approaches and enters the Pass, navigates channels, changes course and speed as she makes for one of our port terminals to load wood pellets for a power plant in Europe, or to unload lumber, probably to build yet another sprawling apartment complex at Panama City Beach.
I like it best when ships head for the West Terminal, and so pass close by 7H. That's been most of the traffic our years here, but I think it'll change over Time as, with the closing of the Paper Mill, the Port Authority moves to shift more action and increase business to East Terminal.
Anyway, of things temporal, with Webb, the farther toward the edge of the Universe we are able to peer, the more confident I am that J B Phillips* is right. On Facebook recently, someone chastised Christianity for creating a religion about self and rights and personal salvation; instead of about sacrificially living the godly life of Christ in God's Kingdom today.
The difference is irreconcilable. And it isn't only in the Bible; remember this one? I remember Warren saying it to our class at Cove School.
A Psalm of Life
What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
"Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Finds us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,--act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing
Learn to labor and to wait.
* J B Phillips, "Your God Is Too Small"
! What's the matter with me?! IDK, eating right and dropping weight, yesterday I gained six pounds, which I'm guessing is the CHF working with the two huge bowls of soup I had, to which I added No Salt but plenty of oyster sauce, and the sushi, which I soaked in soy sauce. Today Furo-Sixty and camp at the loo door until Time to go for a haircut.
RSF&PTL
T