© 2012 Thomas W. Cummins
Recovering from a month away – away from the internet, neighbors, traffic, distracting conveniences. Of course I turn off notifications from the blogs I follow, and I’ll probably never catch up. But that isn’t the point is it?
I enjoy each post as it is, when it is. And from such an eclectic and delightful bunch putting forth great passion and feeling.
So, I return with another birthday under my belt, and a renewed awareness of all that surrounds me.
Dusty Boxes
Unopened Under the dust Several van line stickers Boxes packed But unopened Full of text books Just sitting For years In how many basements? Through all the moves Unopened Fanning the pages of each book Preparing for recycle Nothing between the pages But each page filled Filled with bewildering information Equations – endless equations Diagrams and graphs None of it intelligible The name on each book is mine But the contents No longer mine Can that knowledge be retrieved? Of course One book at a time One page at a time Hours of lectures per chapter Many more hours Homework Spread over five years I could once again own What’s in those dusty boxes Now opened But why revisit All that led to now? That which nourished My mind and spirit Prepared me for work Fed and clothed my family Led to now And most importantly The fruits of that labor Many years ago Remain a part of who I am today© 2012 Thomas W. Cummins
Fear, hatred, and bigotry. A palpable presence in our civil and political discourse. The coded language, positions taken, and policies subverted abound. Nevertheless, come Wednesday I will put up our flag and continue to hope.
I’m heading off on a bit of a sabbatical – an “unplugged” sabbatical. The little one-room cabin has no phone, no internet, no cable, no Direct TV. If the antenna can’t pick it up, we don’t watch. Satellite radio keeps us informed.
A Caribou Coffee in town has Wi-Fi. A 28 mile round trip doesn’t sound like much, but it’s enough to limit checking email to once or twice per week. Even when I’m going into town for something else, I forget to grab my laptop. That is becoming unplugged, on sabbatical.
The little place by the lake has lots of physical labor involved to rouse it from its long winter’s nap. The dock is on the front lawn, the boat is in town, the screen house is in a pile in the bunk house. Leaves from last October are everywhere.
After a few days, things look like this:
But I do try to wrap up “work” around 1:00 each day, and the rest of the day is for reading, writing, fishing, sitting on the dock with a glass of wine or Scotch while watching loons and eagles in the late afternoon.
My library is being packed: In Cold Blood by Truman Capote, T.S. Eliot’s Collected Poems, Anne Porter’s Living Things, Jhumpa Lahiri’s Unaccustomed Earth, Franz Pfeiffer’s Works of Meister Eckhart. And, of course, writing materials including the slowly growing manuscript of my book.
As I rake, fish, read, or just relax, I carry with me the hundreds of men I have spoken with at the prisons, and who remain behind locked steel doors and would, to the man, so love to be doing what I’m doing. But I return to them refreshed for which we both benefit.
1500 mile round trip always asks for safe travel.
Here it is beyond mid-March, and my New Year’s resolution seems to be holding: More Music, Less Politics.
It has to do with my desire for inner peace, really. I had found upon several occasions over the past few years that I was in a different state at the end of days when I had the radio tuned to classical music rather than any of my favorite political talk or news shows.
Politics, the state of our economy, the country’s divisiveness and polarization exacerbated by the 9/11 crisis, and a host of other issues tend to unsettle my awareness and enjoyment of the present moment. It’s the things I can’t do anything about, the things over which I have little influence over the short run, that cause unnecessary and meaningless aggravation.
So now my days begin differently. For the past fifteen years, I would get up at 4:50 a.m. in order to wash my face, brush my teeth and get down to the kitchen in time for the 5:00 news. The radio would remain on until breakfast was complete, the dishwasher unloaded, and the newspaper retrieved.
After the newspaper was consumed, my quite time – candle and all – would begin at 6:45 and run until 7:30. Any of the day’s driving around, trips to the prison, or working in my office, would be accompanied by whatever non-music stations I could find. Needless to say, many political websites are also bookmarked on my desktop PC and my laptop.
Now when I get up at 4:50, I get to the kitchen when I get there, the radio stays off, and the rest of the routine proceeds in silence until 7:30.
If it’s a prison day, my 90 minute morning drive is accompanied by music or nothing. I had gotten in the habit of listening to the P.O.T.U.S. channel on XM radio or the Diane Rehm show on NPR.
On the way home from the prison in the afternoon, I will listen to a variety of news, opinion, and talk shows. I do want to stay current while avoiding a day-long saturation or total immersion. I admit to listening to biased programs as long as guests present opposing points of view, but I completely avoid the shrill extremes of either political party.
This morning on the way to the prison I was loading a variety of CDs onto the car’s hard disk drive but not listening to much of it. Instead, I decided to have the car be quiet and direct my attention to the red bud trees all over the Ozark countryside. It was a peaceful ride, filled with reflection and preparation for my visits with the offenders in solitary. With my previous practice, the beauty of our early spring would have gone unnoticed.
Without knowing the reason or, perhaps, not noticing any difference, the men in solitary confinement experience a different “me” than they would otherwise. Most aren’t interested in politics anyway, and my being pretty up-to-date on the NCAA basketball tournament proved to be more useful.
As I write this, the entire evening has been without radio, TV, stereo, or internet music. It’s quite nice.
In a dim light... 
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