Starting Again

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Life Cycles

Like the cycles of freedom and bondage experienced ages before Polybius wrote his theories of benign and malignant governments, we continue to cycle today, even thousands of years later. Generations, societies, governments and the governed cycle. Even the earth cycles as it spins through day and night, revolving through seasons and years over millennia and eons of time. Cycles are a theme of living things; growth and decline. We struggle for growth and cycle through periods of accomplishment and strength then ease and weakness. Time spent at ease leads to weakness; a very natural part of the living cycle. This is true for the body, both physical and metaphysical. Among my close friends, I would say this is true for both the body and the spirit. The phenomenon manifests in societies of all sizes, from that of the United States to those the size of the average American family. Around and around we go from weak to strong to weak; from poor to rich to poor. Generation after generation; hum...
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Handprint on My Heart

A treasured friend told me today that I’ve left my handprint upon her heart (she quoted a line from a song she heard on the way to SWEAT with me, and said it spoke to her of me). Of course, I felt a welling of emotion. She’s left her handprint upon mine, too. That’s what we do in this life, isn’t it (if we do it right)? We leave our marks upon each other, upon the rising generation, upon the land, upon whatever it may be that will remember us when we’re gone… As I write, I’m sitting in the room with my mother-in-law, as her breathing grows increasingly shallow by the hour and her feeble heart grows tired of beating. Her body is aged and failing. She’s lived a long and wonderful life. Not only did she bring six boys and a daughter into this world, but she raised them in the hills, on a farm, in a little two-room cabin, with no modern utilities. She raised happy children and happy grandchildren who were, and ever will be honored to call her mother. She did it right. This fine lady has le...
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...and the truth shall make you free...

I used to contribute to my little hometown paper. After a new editor and I failed to see eye to eye on a small handful of issues, we decided I don’t contribute to the paper anymore. That’s OK. We all have boundaries. In the process of the break up, I came to appreciate the power of the press more than I had before. Both my parents had worked in the newspaper industry (my mom as a typesetter/printer and my dad as a linotype operator, before the days of computerization), and I figured I had a healthy respect for the creation, description and dissemination of the facts. When news was not news, but opinion, it was clearly labeled just that: opinion. Before recently, I hadn’t considered the ‘responsibility’ of the editor to tell readers what they’re reading before they read it, via the headline (nor the possibility that editors or publishers in small-town America might be in the business of propaganda). A headline not only summarize a piece, but can easily influence the opinions of readers...
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