Our Little Rant by Eightball & Thundercloud
From InfoAve Premium Issue #100 - September 16, 2005
"Have you ever
wondered, just how tall is tall?
From a distance the highest buildings still look very small.
From a distance, from a distance, the highest buildings still look
And we can't measure anyone or anything at all."
(P. F. Sloan "From A Distance")
They say that no two snowflakes are exactly alike. I don't know
how they know this. Has anyone really seen every snowflake there has
ever been? Still, it is fun to think that each snowflake is different
because they all seem the same from a distance. It's sort of like people
isn't it? We're all the same from a distance yet each one is different
Sometimes when fall approaches and winter is just beyond, I think about
snowflakes past, from winters long ago, and I miss snowflakes as
much as I miss sunshine and warm breezes in the middle of a cold, dark,
winter night. It's hard to want what you already have and harder still
not to want what you can never have. I think the secret to being happy
is to want what you already have and be satisfied with it. It is not
easy to be happy when you're always wanting things you're not likely to
have. I don't think you can be happy when you are constantly yearning.
I remember when I was a fat kid in eighth grade. I wanted Kris to be my
girlfriend. She was beautiful. Every boy in my class wanted Kris to be
their girlfriend. And, of course, at the time, I didn't want to admit
that deep inside I knew she wouldn't be caught dead with a fat kid
wearing clothes his mother picked out. But youth is nothing if not
resilient. I'd dream about her and imagine walking her home from school,
carrying her books, and all the dumb stuff an immature, fat, eighth
grade boy imagines. And, I really thought I'd be totally,
completely happy if only she'd be my girlfriend. As with most
infatuations it ended suddenly. One day in gym class (when I was trying
to impress her) I was running and looking at her at the same time and
ran smack into the wall and broke my nose. All I really wanted
then was my nose to get better. I never thought much about Kris after
that. I think she moved away sometime that spring anyway. With an eighth
grade boy in "husky" sized pants, out of sight means out of mind.
Now that's been longer ago than I can to admit and it doesn't even seem
to me like it ever really happen. When I remember it, it seems
like a movie with someone else starring as me. But when I feel the
slight bump on the top of my nose, I know it was me. Long ago and far
away when I was younger than today.
I'm reminded by autumn leaves and pumpkins, apple cider and donuts,
tulips and roses, and snowflakes - that I need to be happy with what I
have and savor each moment that is given to me. I'm often guilty of
forgetting how very precious each day is. Not every day is special but
every day is precious. When this one passes into tomorrow it will never
come again. And you can't have moments you've wasted back again. It's
hard not to want things you can't have, but I'll try. It's hard to want
things you already have because it's human nature to take familiar
things for granted. I will try harder to be happy with the things I do
have. The the old saying: "You never know what you've got until
it's gone" is probably true. I guess that's how old sayings get to be
I can't help yearning a little right now,
on this rainy, warm, September morning, for those
bright colors of autumn which are just around the bend. I can smell and feel
the special autumn air on crisp autumn nights even though
they're weeks away. Maybe they won't feel or smell that way this year.
I'll let you know when they get here. I wonder if I yearn sometimes because I like the way it feels.
I know I'll never be perfect. I'll always
want things I can't have. And right now I miss snowflakes.
Maybe it is true - no two snowflakes
are exactly alike.
Drifting so silently we play wasting the hours
Warm in our knowledge of yesterday's passing
We've met on the hilltops and parted near mountains
And touched without feeling beneath a gray winter sky.
Frost is our beacon our sentry on duty
He beckons our season so warmly
That often I miss him when we are the rulers.
In children we find our most loyal of subjects
They build of our substance soft beautiful castles.
But our glory is fleeting and our kingdom not sound
Peace is knowing our value lies surely in absence
And I pray for the courage to pass on our throne
When the sun brings his kingdom of
Flowers and rain.
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