STILL LIFE CONVERSATION FROM A NOW LATE AFTERNOON

A still life painting is every painting, but not according to the Tate Museum.

One of the principal genres (subject types) of Western art – essentially, the subject matter of a still life painting or sculpture is anything that does not move or is dead.

A painting may depict action, but when’s the last time a framed canvas hanging on some museum wall came to life like a video game?

Still life is not a video game, dear readers, even if it looks like a good idea.

What else isn’t a video game? Real life.

Remember the last time you took a picture of the food in front of you? That’s the definition of a still life.

A picture of you eating the food in front of you, the spilling, the dropping, the next huge mouthful? That’s not a still life by definition, but if it’s not moving it’s still.

Just not a still life.

A conversation on a late afternoon is not a still life, but it could be.

Talking The Talk With Help

It’s a still life water color,
Of a now late afternoon,
As the sun shines through the curtain lace
And shadows wash the room.
And we sit and drink our coffee
Couched in our indifference,
Like shells upon the shore
You can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
The borders of our lives.

This is also not a still life, but it’s trying to be. Paul Simon saw a still life; I see a fading memory of wanting to be anywhere else but where he is.

How often does this happen in real life? If the answer is, “too often” then it’s time to get to work.

And you read your Emily Dickinson,
And I my Robert Frost,
And we note our place with bookmarkers
That measure what we’ve lost.
Like a poem poorly written
We are verses out of rhythm,
Couplets out of rhyme,
In syncopated time
And the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
Are the borders of our lives.

Unexpected Changes

I had the chance to spend time with two people yesterday. There were more than two present, but two are the focus here.

The first was a wonderful conversation about finding a better life in the debris around.

It’s a big thing and never easy, this better life goal, but it’s the right goal. As the senior dog in the pound I talked about making a better life for those you care about, and how that makes a better life all around.

My homegrown concept is based on caregiving experience where I made a life for a man on his death bed. I wanted my father in-law to find peace, and he wasn’t getting it in a hospital hooked up to all the end of life gear.

Since he was near the end I figured I could support the family and keep my mother in-law from the sterile hospital death of her husband. I signed up with the expectations of serving a few days as his caregiver.

To that end, I gave him a pep-talk that lit something dormant and he lived five more years to everyone’s surprise, none bigger than mine. His continued presence gave me the time to straighten things out with him.

Looking back I think I transferred my guilt at not being a better advocate for my own dad at the end of his life. I got after the doctors and nurses who acted like my father in-law’s life was anything less than their life. It was confrontational and sort of fun showing home-visit nurses the door.

Coping With Life. How Does That Work?

After giving myself a broken heart I’ve turned into quite the philosopher.

Now I have medical proof, evidence, that I know what I’m talking about.

“Try not to break your own heart.“

On a late afternoon I talked and listened to someone dear to my unbroken heart. She talked about things important to her and how she planned on moving ahead.

She’s a driver, but knows the road is a hard one.

I talked about the heavy load, about my dad the day he started slipping.

On that day, my dad said he felt life stacking up higher and higher and worried about it all falling down.

He wasn’t wrong to worry. It all comes falling down for all of us eventually. But there’s no hurry.

My aim was to hit the change essentials. Make a list of priorities, check it twice. Re-order the list when the time is right. Know that you’re as strong as you need to be, but also know that you’ve got untapped reserves.

How many times have you started something, wanted to quit, but still finished? Then looked back in amazement that you did what you did?

It’s never obvious when you’re in the grind, in the process, but the reflection afterwards is a reward not given to all.

Take the first step with a clear conscience and a plan and plow the damn road in front toward the goal. Drop a few seeds as you plow and find out what grows in your wake. It’s a beautiful thing.

Your heart will sing.

Nothing Growing Here

Yes, we speak of things that matter,
With words that must be said,
“Can analysis be worthwhile?”
“Is the theater really dead?”
And how the room is softly faded
And I only kiss your shadow,
I cannot feel your hand,
You’re a stranger now unto me
Lost in the dangling conversation.
And the superficial sighs,
In the borders of our lives.

Somewhere along the line we detect borders of our lives. Just leave out the indifference, the superficial sighs, the dangling conversations, and get down to it.

It takes time, but no one is on the clock to a better life for themselves. Your steps are yours alone, and if you know that, the next step is a given. Take it with love and kindness, with responsibility and accountability, and feel the lift.

Life challenges can stack up, but meeting the challenge and staying on track shows your character. So be the character who can say, “Yes, this happened and this is what I did, this is what I felt, and this is where I’m going with it.”

A better life is bordered by caring and forgiveness. Ask me how I know.

A Later Conversation?

I wrestled with a sassy baby later.

After a bottle she took a nap on my chest feeling my heart beat.

“She’s making your heart better,” Karla said. Lisa agreed. So did I.

We didn’t talk but communicated in silence instead.

When she woke up she popped up like a meekat.

Her momma sat next to me.

“She’s so happy,” she said.

“How can you tell?”

She put her hands out. Ordinarily baby looks at mom and leans in.

This time she stayed in her meerkat pose and looked at me.

I heard some sweet heart music to pass along.