Why don’t we talk about death more often? Have we convinced ourselves that death cannot scale our wall of silence?

As some of you already know, I’ve been spending a lot of my time working on a collection of chapters. It’s big enough to be called a volume but not complete enough to be called a book. In wrestling through a particular portion of the story, I encountered something deep within myself that worried me greatly. Namely, that I was not fully decided on what I thought to be the contents of a full life.

I put that on my list of things to figure out before I die and pressed on to give voice to a particular character’s thoughts on death. The words didn’t come easily. In fact, I’m not sure they’re all in place yet. However, I stumbled across a gorgeous little book written by Adrienne von Speyr called The Mystery Of Death that has proven useful.

Here’s an excerpt from the chapter, Death As A Punishment And An End:

The most compelling consequence of death is not merely separation but a growing limitation of understanding, the breaking off of a dialogue, a rapport, a love which had thought it was wider and bigger. My friend is dead, but this death tears holes in my own existence. Not merely in that my own death comes closer, but more deeply, in that whole context, things I took to be certain and understood are now torn down and taken away.

I love that. Sure, it’s about death and I associate death with a rainbow of pain. But there is also an elegance, a willingness to recognize the crumbling and not despise the crumbles. I hope to provide the same sensibility for my character. Just in shorter sentences. =)

I hadn’t expected to get so much out of this process. A happy surprise. I’m glad for your thoughts.

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Designers, people with photoshop, snooping relatives, etc. What do you think of this as a possible logo for Simonds Media (my slightly more formal presence online)?

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I was 7 years old then. All I wanted was to buy a few tootsie rolls and a roll of gum that came with its own dispenser. I thought I had enough money but the cash register lady said a number much larger than the coins I clutched in my hand. In a panic, I counted my coins again. I didn’t have enough. As I painfully chose a few pieces of candy to give up, the man waiting in line behind me reached into his pocket and handed me a quarter. “Don’t even think about putting those tootsie rolls back. They’re delicious.” He said. Well, I think that’s what he said. I was overcome with shame at my mistake and joy at a stranger’s kindness. He was right about those tootsie rolls though. They were delicious.

With a story you can share ideas, conjure emotions, and explain how a particular product or service offers a certain value.

I’ve told you a story. Now it’s your turn.

Just got this email:

From: Juliet pretty < juliet_tipoteh1@yahoo.com >
Date: Thu, Dec 17, 2009 at 8:18 AM
Subject: Am interested in you
mailed-by yahoo.com
signed-by yahoo.com

Am juliet,a tall good looking young girl,so lovely
and caring with good understanding.fair in complexion,care with good
sharing, honesty. I saw your ad at [obtuse url] which interested me much and i decided to contact you.I really want to have a good friendship with you
even if you have married we can be friend ok ,i have a reason of
selecting you as my friend,pls if you wish to know more.Pls contact me
through this my email We need to talk and
know ourself more and equally share pictures to each other.hope to hear
from you.

Bye with a warmly
huggs.
Juliet

It’s hard for me not to like this Juliet character. Unlike many of the email pitches I’ve seen lately, Juliet’s has a lot going for it:

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I was reminded today of something a high school writing teacher of mine once said. He’d walked into the classroom and pushed the door shut behind him with his elbow. As the noisy hallway disappeared with the click of the door latch, we realized how loud we’d been and settled quietly into our chairs.

He set his bag on the low table near the lectern and reached inside for a stack of papers. As he did the bag flap rolled back to reveal a bright yellow lining. It must have coordinated with some prior shade of red the leather bag hadn’t known since the early 80’s. Our teacher lifted the stack of papers, squared them against the table with a hard thump, and set them in a neat stack beside the bag.

He straightened, removed his glasses with his left hand, and squeezed the bridge of his nose his right index finger and thumb. Replacing his glasses and staring at us with the well-worn eyes of a teacher about to say the same thing again, he spoke.

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One of the things I like best about social media is the way it helps me discover talented writers. They remind me a lot of distance athletes with their deep conversations about seemingly minor details and long periods of time spent practicing alone.

The web also has a downside. There seems to be a growing belief that having mobile access to information negates any need to regularly consume quality writing.

Some writers point to the popularity of the Twilight series and say it’s a sign the general population no longer cares about quality. In my reply

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The way you view failure can dramatically alter the path you take to success.

Milton Reeves built terrible cars. They were large, loud, smelly, and hard to drive.

He built the eight-wheeled monstrosity, “OctoAuto”, with the idea that eight wheels would make his car ride as nicely as the Pullman train cars it was modeled after. He took his pet beast to the inaugural Indianapolis 500 but failed to attract any serious buyers. Thinking the problem was the number of wheels, the tireless Mr. Reeves took an axle off the front of his car and called it the “Sext-Auto”. That model simply attracted more laughs. His cars were failures.

So why do we remember Milton Reeves as a success?

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