Writing one's book
Gale
again, Mike, for the review) and thinking about how I draw the measure
of this particular life of mine.
It's just one time around the Wheel, from birth to death, and the wheel
of the Universe is vast beyond conception and teeming with life in a
fashion which is likewise beyond conception, so why does it matter?
Thus, I will inflict some ruminations and common-places on any of you
patient enough or foolish enough to bear with me through this post.
It has to matter on its own terms -- the Universe is too vast for it to
matter in terms of greatness or the like. And it needs to be more than
"fun" -- we witness far too much that is not fun. It needs to, in the
Classical sense, be a "good life" -- noting that my dog is living, IMO,
a "good life" quite without doing anything more profound than licking my
daughter's face or running about the house and yard.
So, what is this "good life"? Some measure a net worth; I've thought
about it, and were I to do so, I would measure by what net sense of
"joy" I've brought to or added to the Universe. But I don't like
measuring. I'm no Benthamite and consider any interests beyond keeping
our scales reasonably close to balance to be the stuff of accountants
rather than people.
Instead, I like to thing about the one book that I, failed novelist that
I can comfortably declare myself, intend to successfully complete, the
"book" of my life -- that whole accounting of the events and thoughts of
myself as this life took its place in the unkempt spiral of time. What
kind of "read" will my whatever number of years produce?
No high drama, or at least I expect none. Pretty boring by our standards
for fiction. However, it will do nicely -- and when it's done, perhaps
it will even have a theme that becomes apparent for the discerning
reader. It is a book filled with little failures and without grand
successes, but that is fine -- so far it is a book also filled with
little pleasures, little joys, and (I like to think) good intentions.
Forgive my idle chatter -- it's a quiet newsgroup and this seemed a
better excuse for posting than just a "hello, friends."
--
Blessed Be,
Gale
original fiction, poetry, reviews http://www.capjewels.com
"Progress which pursues only the next invention, progress which pulls
thought out of the mind and replaces it with idle slogans, is not
progress at all. It is a beckoning mirage in a desert over which stagger
the generations of men." -- Loren Eisley, _The Firmament of Time_
Baird Stafford
Gale <gal...@bellsouth.net> wrote:
<snip>
> So, what is this "good life"? Some measure a net worth; I've thought
> about it, and were I to do so, I would measure by what net sense of
> "joy" I've brought to or added to the Universe. But I don't like
> measuring. I'm no Benthamite and consider any interests beyond
> keeping our scales reasonably close to balance to be the stuff of
> accountants rather than people.
I like to think I've lived - and am living - a "good" life in all senses
of which I can think at this particular moment. I found the SO of my
dreams (or he found me - there's some discussion about that, around
here...), we're comfortably off at present and employment is fairly
secure by comparison (and, we hope, will stay that way); the Dowager is
being cared for as well as I can manage; and at one or two times during
my time on this Turn, I've touched the lives of people and amused them,
or made them think, or otherwise affected them in what I regard as a
positive manner. I like to hope those folks outnumber the ones who may
regard my influence on their existences as having been negative.
Furthermore, due to circumstances beyond my control, I have been
domesticated by a feline who is also presently working on taming the SO,
and thinks he's coming along as well as can be expected for a mere human
who is largely indifferent to the Very Important Subject of CATS.
Especially Leila.
All things considered, I can't think of any of my friends, acquaintances
nor even any "celebrities" for whose circumstances I would exchange my
own.
Blessed be,
Baird
Yowie
news:nBPjk.783$kh2...@bignews3.bellsouth.net
Don't be so sure that the story of your life would seem dull to other
people.
My mother is now giving lectures at the local chapters of the University of
the Third Age (U3A) about her own life and has almost finished her
autobiography. She used to think it was dull and boring, but others -
including her two daughters - think its fascinating. She was born in 1939
and remembers alot of the war and bombing of London; of living on food
stamps, food grown onthe allottment, and her mother taking in overnight
'boarders' for extra money whilst her father was away in the munitions
factories (we suspect that they were getting far more than just a bed to
sleep in, but have no proof). She was a groundbreaker for many young women
wanting to enter the armed forces, she lead her own life, self-funding many
adventerous holidays overseas, there were romantic interludes she hints at
(although out of respect for my father won't say much when he's around), got
married late (she was 30) and then took her two young daughters (4 and 2
respectively) half way around the world to start another life in Australia
with her husband. She encouraged her two daughters to do whatever they
wanted to do, and not be constrained by societal pressures. (Both my sister
and I work in male dominated industries) And yet she started life as a
cripple and went to 'special school for the stupid' until the age of 7
because she couldn't walk.
Up until she met someone on-line who had been stationed at one of the same
bases as her in England when she was in the airforce, she thought she had
lead a dull boring, uninteresting life that no-one would want to know about.
The person she met on-line was a member of a Yahoo group of ex RAAF people
from that base, and soon she jotted down her memories of staying at that
base and shared it with the Yahoo group. Encouraged to write more, she
started writing about her other memories of the Airforce, at other bases and
her other assignments. Her U3A group got wind of what she was up to and
asked her to do a quick presentation on her days at the RAAF. She duly did
so and it was so well received she was asked to do both the sequel and the
prequel.
Said biography is now well over 10,000 words, with many photos,
illustrations and recordings thrown in. Its a story of a person who thought
she was average, boring and unininteresting, but who is obviously so much
more. It may not win any pullitzer prizes or be made into a movie, but its
got a solid fan base, and I am one of them. I am so very glad she's leaving
her memories for us, if nothing else.
So, Gale, please write your book, if for no other reason than to leave to
your kids. Let them see your ups and downs, your acheivements and your
failures, let them read about your joys, sorrows, your passions. Your life
is unique among all others living or dead - it would be shame to lose that
information when you have the ability to record it well.
Yowie
phorbin
yowie9644....@yahoo.com.au says...
> including her two daughters - think its fascinating. She was born in 1939
1929?
1919?
I know I remember significant bits my life from age 0 to 6 and I know
wartime would impress a wee lass with memories that wouldn't be
forgotten but I can't help wondering if the 3 was a typo.
And if not, that in itself is fascinating. (to me, anyway)
Yowie
news:MPG.22fa30ea7...@news.execulink.com
Nope, 1939. She's 30 years older than me. Fits in with my grandmother being
born in 1907.
She rememebrs things like the sound of the bombs dropping, air raid sirens,
damp,dark and musty bomb shelters. She remembers being so close to a bomb
drop that everyone fell off the couch from the shock wave - which finally
brought an end to her brother's carbuncle. Of being evacuated to Somerset,
only to come back to find an unexploded shell through the bathof water (now
gone, of course) they had left outside for the fire fighters. That shell was
disarmed, and made int the family's brass cribbage board. Of letting the
peat fire go out in Somerset and having no idea how to restart it. Knocking
on the neighbours door they were horrified, you *never* let them burn out
and it had been burning continuously for over 200 years. It was considered
awefully bad luck. They never told hte owners of the house that it had gone
out althoug they clearly got it started again somehow.
She would have been 6 when the war finished. I have distinct memories of my
childhood in England before I came her to Australia when I was 4. Even my
sister, who was 2 at the time, has some memories she can relate to England.
Yowie
April Rayne
Said
> Classical sense, be a "good life" -- noting that my dog is living, IMO,
> a "good life" quite without doing anything more profound than licking my
> daughter's face or running about the house and yard.
Though possibly from a dogs point of view a good life would be one where
they ranged free in a pack (as they did during my childhood and teen years)
exploring / interacting / living dangerously / sniffing hither and thither
to their hearts content. An abudance of small animals, ripe fruit and nuts,
upon which to snack, a mate alongside and warm dry shelter would complete
their utter contentment :-)
April R
Gale
> "Gale" <gal...@bellsouth.net> wrote in message
> news:nBPjk.783$kh2...@bignews3.bellsouth.net...
>
> Said
>
> > Classical sense, be a "good life" -- noting that my dog is living, IMO,
>
>>a "good life" quite without doing anything more profound than licking my
>>daughter's face or running about the house and yard.
>
>
> Though possibly from a dogs point of view a good life would be one where
> they ranged free in a pack (as they did during my childhood and teen years)
> exploring / interacting / living dangerously / sniffing hither and thither
> to their hearts content. An abudance of small animals, ripe fruit and nuts,
> upon which to snack, a mate alongside and warm dry shelter would complete
> their utter contentment :-)
While I can't step into my dog's mind to answer that, I suspect it's not
the case. I suspect he no more wants to be part of a real dog pack than
I want to resume our ancestoral practice of chasing down antelopes,
bare-handed, on the African veldt. Any modern packs you are familiar
with would have, I also fear, elements in common with the human
adolescent street gang -- which, I must respectfully submit, "ain't nature."
Now he might have some longings, herding dog as he is, for a handful or
more of sheep to keep in line. I worry, as a border collie owner should,
about him getting enough exercise, work, and entertainment. He has
another dog to play with, a few little chores about the house, his toys,
a neighbor dog with whom he exchanges non-angry barks, and the full-time
job of watchdog. Unfortunately, he is an over-exuberant watchdog,
fiercely threatening anyone who dares approach our door.
I judge him to be satisfied with his life because he seems to be quite
happy -- enthusiastic, energetic, patient, naturally obedient (he's had
little training, yet behaves as he's asked).
He's domestic, just like the species with whom his species entered a
symbotic social relationship some thousands of years ago.
Don Hilliker
wrote:
So well said. My 10 month old pup is sitting on my feet as I type
this. Got the pup last fall so the older (6 years last january) dog
would have a dog freind not just 2 cats to tell him no. Well the
older one has settled down, the cats have continued on and the pup has
been a pup. My dogs are a bit harder to deal with since I chose a
hunting bread (dachshund), as was shown on this eve's walk about the
farm. Heiny(heinrich luke, the pup) flushed a grouse out in the field
while we were walking, of couse he had to go over and see if he could
find it. Of course both dogs (along with both cats) sleep on the bed
a night, which sometimes makes for a limited space to live in, but
that is the real world and I would not trade that for the plastic
worlds so many have. The pup has never known or seen a real urban
enviroment, unlike the older dog. The most urban he has ever dealt
with is the penn park in Petoskey Michigan in the summer.
don
Don Hilliker, Intricate Articles
http://www.intricatearticles.com