Skip to content

Tag: growth

The New Almost Normal

Published on May 23, 2025

Almost, nearly, next to, practically, virtually, pretty much, just about, perfect. Or talented. Or holy. Compassionate, professional, persuasive, convincing, genius, helpful, useful, good enough, or just enough. And that’s on the plus side, Imagine yourself as the absolute antithesis: almost unbearably, dispassionately, sadistically, cruelly, mischievously and maybe also horribly perfect. Or wealthy. Or powerful. That’s what the dream of absolute power sells you. That if you had enough power, you could be perfect. Like that little girl in the story by Saki, you could be “horribly good.”

But how does that work out? Once you’re “almost” something, you stand at the edge of a chasm so vast and endless that you are damned, like Zeno, to forever advance from your position at 99% to a full 100% in half-lengths that never get you any closer than half way there with each step.

Because perfect is a pipe dream. Just like forever. Or never, for that matter. These are ideas that convince you to chase your tail, sell yourself into wage slavery, cut off your nose to spite your face, or surrender yourself to an unseen, unverifiable, uncommunicative, and otherwise unpleasant dictator you created to relieve yourself of personal responsibility for why you live and die.

Think of it this way: we’re almost ready.

To start. To evolve. To grow. To prosper. To destroy. To decay. To diminish. To die.

That’s a lot of chasm to cross. And not a lot of time to get there, considering the only time we have is almost gone, nearly wasted, and just about up.

On the other hand, that last one percent is not as far as it looks. Objects in the mirror can sometimes be closer than they appear.

23 May 2025

Leave a Comment

What Good Is It: blues sonnet

Published on April 22, 2025

What good is it to stand and curse the dark?
Yes, in the black of night, to curse the dark?
If you want some more light, create a spark.

What good can come from waiting out your time?
What good can you get done, just doing time?
To get out of a pit, you need to climb.

What good will grow if you don’t plant the seed?
No good will grow if you don’t plant the seed;
from nothing sprouts up nothing, guaranteed.

What good becomes of empty words and song?
Can you change anything with words and song?
You either lead or learn to sing along.

What good is it to know and not to do?
The world can grow or die, it’s up to you.

22 APR 2025

Leave a Comment

Becoming A

Published on June 28, 2024

Have you ever seen
someone become, in this life,
a bodhisattva –

I mean, who wasn’t one yet
when they started on their way?

If you can become
a thing you’re not already,
how is that trick done?

Not through potential or work –
that gets you Somewhere.

When your salt doll self
measures the ocean’s suchness,
the shore melts away.

What could be left to become
when you’re only here?

28 JUN 2024

Leave a Comment

Spare Change

Published on April 1, 2014

There is no thing that doesn’t change:
some change, but no one sees;
some change a little, but no more;
some change to great degrees.

Some change and become something else;
some change but look the same;
some change because of point of view;
some change in all but name.

There is no thing that doesn’t change:
some change and never know;
some change without a reason why;
some change but never grow.

Some change to suit a place and time;
some change despite themselves;
some change outside but not within;
some change just for a spell.

There is no thing that doesn’t change;
some change without a clue;
some change for better or for worse;
some change but are not new.

Some change to find a better way;
some change, yet stay behind;
some change but never seem to grow;
some only change their minds.

1 APR 2014

Leave a Comment

Here is the Crossroads

Published on April 26, 2007

Here is the crossroads where you finally know
you’re too old to say you’ll die young.
It’s early summer; fall’s on the horizon.
Your spring has most definitely sprung.

It’s not about giving up on your wild days,
but some dreams must wither and die.
Sooner or later the moving parts wear out;
to think otherwise is to lie.

What was appealing in the hope of vanity,
the religion of your youth,
just lingers on as weary, sad echo;
embarrassing, to tell the truth.

You will get older; or else, the alternative:
cease to get any at all.
If you’re not into the dog days of summer,
there’s no way to make it through fall.

Here is the crossroads where you must decide
for the future, or cling to the past;
let the illusion you’re living youth’s fantasy
go, or else you might not last.

26 APR 2007

Leave a Comment

‘Til I Die

Published on January 18, 2007

Maybe I’m a dreamer, but I sure don’t want to be
one of those two old guys sitting in the balcony:
a grizzled, bitter muppet who makes fun of everything
and never gets up off his ass, and on the stage to sing.

Maybe I’m a geezer, but I’ve got a youthful heart
that’s ready, anytime, to get on stage and do my part;
could be that I’ll look foolish, but I’ve done that bit before:
been some kind of a fool for almost thirty years or more.

‘Cause I can play the guitar and sing circles ’round a song;
the feeling that I get on stage can’t possibly be wrong:
that you can change the world with music, if you only try.
I’ll be an old musician, ’til I die.

Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I learned back in the day
that every kind of music’s good, in its own unique way;
from Lawrence Welk and Hee-Haw, and the Porter Wagoner show
I figured out there is no song that you can’t make your own.

Maybe it’s kinda crazy, but I wish you’d take a chance
on an old guitar picker who’s too old to learn to dance;
together, we could play some things that are worth listening to,
and change the world, if only for a brief hour or two.

‘Cause I can play the guitar; hell, I’ve played for thirty years;
that should be worth some to you, at the start of your career:
let my voice of experience assist you while you try.
to grow as a musician, ’til you die.

Maybe I’m a dreamer, my whole life spent out of sync;
why ain’t he rich or famous, I can hear some of you think.
You’re right, to some degree, but money ain’t the only thing.
Sometimes, the prize is that you get to sing.

18 JAN 2007

Leave a Comment