The older I get, the more I find regret to be a sucker’s game. I was the me then that I was, wishing the me then was the me now is just a waste of angst. Learn and move. Learn and move. No regret.
All sorts of stuff — e.g. gabby strangers approaching me unexpectedly when I’m in a low mental energy state. But when I observe the sensation of that nervousness, without rumination or feeding of the feeling, it fades rapidly. As Twain [allegedly, but possibly never] said, “I am an old man and have known a great many troubles, but most of them never happened.”
We’re all screwed. Embrace the chaos or head for the hills.
There is a class of problems that brute force solutions, even when they nudge the needle in the desired direction, always end in devastation.
One can’t drive an aircraft carrier like a jet-ski and expect anything other than a bunch of drowned sailors and destroyed planes.
[Guess who’s been reading the news.]
Anytime that such an encounter doesn’t start with a socially-programmed question [e.g. “Where are you from?” or “How ya doin’?”] or attempt to drag me into a communal bitching session [e.g. “Man, this line sure is slow!”] it has the potential to be a great interaction.
Unfortunately, encounters that meet both criteria are so rare that I’m usually caught off-guard. It’s like seeing a leprechaun or a unicorn, one doesn’t have time to process it before the moment is gone. Still, there have been a few over the years — conversations on topics of mutual interest, mostly.
Wen-Tzu by Lao-Tzu
In this short Life that only lasts an hour
How much - how little - is within our power
To surrender to my ignorance. If one can never know exactly what game one is playing, it becomes much easier to avoid getting worked up about whether one is playing it right or whether one will “win” or not.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun;
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'
The hot, molten core. Because it is hot, and molten… And because I am a fancy bag of water.
I don’t have a favorite restaurant, but I do have a type: mom-and-pop hole-in-the-wall that only does a few things but does them all exceedingly well. I don’t care for frou-frou places, and it drives me batty when a place has a thirty-page menu and you have to play the “guess what they actually have” game. I always loved watching Monty Python’s “Cheese Shop Sketch,” but have loathed reprising the John Cleese part in so many restaurants.
Chains have their place in the travel pipeline or in a busy schedule, but I generally prefer a novel experience over a cookie cutter one.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 