Conversation with the neighbors

“What am I doing here? Why am I doing this?” He had stopped in mid-thought to contemplate the meaning of his very existence. He felt he had to know the reason why he was put on this planet, as if he had to have a Reason. Could it be as simple as what he was told — to love God and to love his neighbor, understanding that everyone and anyone was his neighbor? No, it was not just that imperative, it was to share that imperative with his neighbors — to share it with everyone and anyone.

It seemed too simple — wouldn’t people get tired of his constant repetition? “Oh there’s the one-note wonder again, he’s such a one-trick pony. ‘And now for my next trick, another variation on “Love God and love your neighbor, and did I mention that everyone is a neighbor?”’ Boh-ring.”

“I want to love my neighbor,” said one neighbor, “but THOSE PEOPLE don’t want to be my neighbors.”

“Love them anyway,” he said.

“Easy for you to say,” said another neighbor, “but what about HIM? You can’t possibly mean to include —”

“Oh, yes, I do,” he said. “Even he, with all his annoying and alarming proclamations and habits, even he is my neighbor, and I must love him if this is going to work.”

“There’s the flaw in your logic — ‘if this is going to work’ — but it can’t work unless everyone buys into it,” another neighbor insisted.

“No, that’s not true, either,” he said. “It starts with me, doing unto others, and one at a time, we all will love one another eventually.”

“That will take forever, long past our lifetimes,” said another.

“It has been more than 2,000 years now,” he admitted. “Still, there is more love in the world than there was 100 years ago, so it’s slowly working.”

Several neighbors scoffed. “That’s pretty slow progress,” two or three said simultaneously.

“The one who said it first did not say the world would change all at once,” he said.

“Yes, he did,” countered one wag of a neighbor, “something about ‘in a twinkling of an eye,’ as I recall.”

“That’s something else,” he said. “In any case, I have the answer to my original question. This is what I’m here for.”

“What is?”

“To have this conversation. Over and over.”

“Aren’t you bored?” asked a neighbor, “or at least incredibly frustrated?”

“Not yet,” he said, smiling. “I kind of love it.”

Dooba pah pah poh

A lot of what I learned about music and songwriting came from studying Neil Sedaka’s songs during my obsession from ages 8 to 10. One observation was that many songs have an introduction that doesn’t repeat during the main body of the song (but might repeat at the end).

“Wo wo wo wo, yeah yeah yeah, hey little devil!”

“Tra-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la, happy birthday sweet sixteen!”

As I discovered more about old-time music (or, as I called it then, contemporary music), I saw that Neil Sedaka didn’t invent the song intro.

For example, “My love must be a kind of blind love,” etc., opens “I Only Have Eyes for You,” and I’ve found song intros on songs dating back to the 1920s, tunes like “Ain’t We Got Fun,” “Ramona” and “Stardust.”

In a world full of “Rama Lama Ding Dongs” and “Dip dip dip dip mum mum mum mum mums,” Sedaka did put his own spin on the song intro with the third hit in my obsession, “Breaking Up Is Hard To Do.”

That song, of course, begins, “Come-a come-a down, doobie do down down,” and as far as I know, the incomprehensible song intro was born. (Or maybe it traces back to “Bomma bom bom, ma bomma bom bom, buh buh bomma bom bom a-danga dang dang, a dinga dang ding blue moon.”) Sedaka took it a step further by making the repeated “down doobie do” a part of the song’s background rhythm.

And for his next trick, he took incomprehensible to a new level with the opening of “Next Door To An Angel”:

“Dooba pah pah poh do-bop she down down, dooba pah pah poh do-bop she down down.”

(Tangent: Perhaps this musical trend kept evolving to its ultimate expression in “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.”)

I have little more to add except that nonsense words were a part of early rock music’s charm. In the immortal words of Barry Mann, “When I say dip da dip da dip da dip, you know I mean it from the bottom of my boogity boogity boogity shoop.”

Maybe I dontwanna

“Maybe I’ll …”

I frequently will preface a statement with “Today, maybe I’ll …” Maybe I’ll clean this room. Maybe I’ll give Dejah, my ancient golden retriever, a good brushing. Maybe I’ll write that Great American Novel. Clearly what I really mean to say is, “This is what I really ought to do, but I don’t want to.” Or at least that’s the net result at the end of the day.

Usually when I “suck it up” and push through the dontwannas, it wasn’t as great a chore as I feared, and I feel better for getting it done. The ferocity of my resistance often amazes me. “This will only take a minute or two” or “This is an obligation you assumed” are not as powerful as motivators as “I don’t wanna!” 

I know I like to say it’s important to stay in touch with your inner child, but this part of childhood is ridiculous.

Maybe I’ll start reminding my inner child that we did grow up, once upon a time.

Reasons for all of it

On Monday I posted my post on Facebook by quoting from the song “Smile” — “There’s always a reason to always choose joy.” Tuesday I wrote about my poem “Love anyway” and posted to Facebook, “There’s always a reason to always choose love.”

Now I realize there’s always a reason to choose all of the fruits of the Spirit — always choose peace, always choose patience, always choose kindness, and all the rest. That reason in the most selfish sense is that it’s good for us — if you live in joy, peace, gentleness, etc., you’re going to be healthier than if you wrap yourself in anger and fear and lash out at others.

But as the phrase implies, those traits are a natural product of living in the Spirit — they are the fruits of that life choice. When you’re with the Spirit, you can’t help but feel joy and love, and you are patient, and kind and gentle by nature.

Choose to live in the Spirit, and you are choosing all of the fruit. I have to say it’s a healthier way of life but often hard to maintain, especially as I scroll through social media and see all the hatred and distrust — but as I cling to the Spirit, the urge to respond in kind tends to melt away. There’s always a reason to always choose the Spirit.

Reasons for love

Every moment of every day presents us with choices. At the end of the day, the answer to the inevitable question, “How was your day?” turns out to be a summary of the choices we made in those various given moments.

One June day eight years ago, I conjured a little poem about making those choices. I included it in my first (or third, depending on how you count) collection of blog posts, a little book called A Bridge at Crossroads: 101 Encouragements. 

It’s not an especially great poem, but I think about it from time to time when I think about how we’re always making choices. I thought about it again yesterday, when I wrote about choosing joy and finding reasons to rejoice wherever we turn.

Love is the same way, because love is a choice in the same way joy can be chosen. The marriages that last are the ones where both parties have chosen to love each other, and for better or for worse. So, too, can an attitude of love be a choice in our interactions with one another. That’s what I was trying to say here.

Love anyway

When weariness overtakes you
And your fuse is short,
Love anyway.

When the slap of reality hurts
So bad you want to lash back,
Love anyway.

When the loss is so deep
You can’t see straight,
Love anyway.

When you’re tempted to quit
And go running away forever,
Love anyway.

That’s what love is;
That’s why it’s called love.

Reasons for joy

There are so many reasons to always choose joy, not the least of which is life itself.

For all of the trials and tribulations, there is so much beauty to be found in the world —

a sunrise, a cardinal, a flock of pelicans overhead —

a song or a symphony, a wondrous poem or novel, an incredible painting or sculpture —

a mighty skyscraper, a cozy house, a rustic road, a highway over the mountains —

so much to pump the heart full of awe and joy.

Life is full of little aches and pains, not to mention grievous sorrow, but there are so many reasons to rejoice, and a time for all of them. 

Springing ahead to save daylight

And so we say goodbye to Standard Time for another eight months. According to our newly adjusted clocks, today’s sunrise comes an hour later than yesterday, and sunset will come an hour later, until after Halloween.

This is to avoid the spectacle, in our neck of the woods, of the sun rising shortly after 4 a.m. in June.

I actually wouldn’t mind that. I like sunshine in the morning more than I like sunsets after 9 p.m. But I’m a morning person, what do I know?