This is the first winter I’ve ever gone without setting foot in a single bit of snow. It’s been wonderful. At no point did I feel like I was missing out on something important by not having snow to slip in, shovel around, or drive through.

It just got cold. Not terribly cold. But cold enough that it’s obviously spring now. People are going out on the beaches now. The 5 people in this entire town that get exercise are out jogging around. It’s wonderful.

Spring coughed up warm days like a veteran smoker as clover rushed to heal the scars left by Dad’s overeager snowplow.

I tweeted that earlier. My father was notorious for overeager snowplowing. We made some sweet forts though.

What is your favorite part of spring?

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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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I’ve been reading Josef Pieper’s Happiness & Contemplation. Take a gander at this quote from page 73:

What constitutes contemplation? First: silent perception of reality. Second: not thinking, but intuition; intuition is knowledge of what is present. Third: knowing accompanied by amazement. Only one who does not see the whole can be amazed.

I added the emphasis to the last portion because it resonates so strongly with me.

So often I am cloaked in this undulating shroud of ungrateful discontent. So often I see a person or set of circumstances and am immediately drawn into an examination of the wrong and lacking in the situation. Why? Because I forget or willfully overlook the fact that I do not see the whole of the matter at hand.

It’s easy to find her annoying until I try to comprehend the greater whole and, realizing I do not see it all, am surprised that she puts up with my behavior and does not find me simple-minded. I can be amazed only after recognizing that there are parts of the situation I do not comprehend.

It’s so comfortable to look at just a few inputs and decide that a project is stupid and not worth my time. But when I step back and try to comprehend the expectations, investments, and disappointments of all involved, I see that my initial declaration of waste was based on an incredibly limited perspective.

Approaching situations with “knowing accompanied by amazement,” that is, my existing knowledge tempered by the understanding that I cannot entirely grasp the whole, is something I’m trying to do more of.

It’s something to think about, to remember, or to possibly forget immediately. The choice is yours.

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In the interest of disclosure: I am not currently seeking nor do I intend to seek marriage or other civil partnership with any individual of current acquaintance.

That said, I’m still thinking about how I’d like to construct a prenup. Here are my initial thoughts:

• I’ve often heard that you cannot sign a prenup if you are truly marrying for love. I get where that idea comes from but I disagree. I think it’s good to have one’s “final papers” in order before it’s too late. Think of a prenup as you would a clearly marked fire escape in a restaurant. Fewer than 50% of restaurants burn down (clearly outpacing divorce rates) and yet most of use would feel uncomfortable if we didn’t have a way to get out in case of fire.
• Excepting the prenups exhibiting a zenith of eccentricity and compelling partners to vacate the country upon divorce, I see a prenup as a discussion of finances only. (Gosh, that was a terribly-written sentence!) I am a firm believer in discussing finances regularly as part of a healthy relationship. Doesn’t matter if the relationship is business, romantic, or something in between. If there’s money involved, a discussion about said funds will need to take place.

In light of all that, here’s what I’ve come up with as basic terms for my prenup, should I ever need one:

• Full disclosure of personal financial history. “Why did you spend your last $500 on a pair of shoes?” seems like a question best asked when that $500 didn’t represent the dregs of a joint account. I expect to answer a few questions as well. I have good answers for all but one of them.
• There are a lot of smaller details that I’ll refrain from mentioning due to the propensity of some to read big climbs into short hills. =)
• Upon divorce, ownership of all assets, save for a specific sum held in escrow from the day of signing, will be transferred to a charity.

Your thoughts?

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A recent resolution of mine is to spend as little time as possible with people who wholly prefer commentary to creation.

An analog example of this would be the decision to spend less time with friends who like to hang out chatting in bars and join an amateur racing outfit as a mechanic.

In the digital world, there’s some crossover between commentary and creation. One could say that in writing this post I am creating something. Am I? If so, it courts the line between creation and commentary with a definite lean toward commentary.

And that’s okay. Just not all the time.

What I’m seeing more and more of lately online, especially in social media circles, is the drive to comment rather than create. We’ve a rash of punditry that doesn’t give any signs of going away. The heart is in the right place. Haven’t we been told that if the whole world would just sit down for a talk we’d figure out all our problems? A good conversation has the ability to inspire, challenge, and even heal.

But there’s a problem when we have conversations for their own sake. Like the child who sings because the darkness is less frightening when there’s familiar noise, we shuffle toward our best guess at success.

You don’t need to sing louder than your fears anymore. Use your favorite social media platform, grab a friend, and take some time away from commentary to create something you can be proud of.

To say that it will be difficult to do so is an understatement. You’ll sweat blood for it. Good luck to us both.

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My heart is filled with gladness.

I sauntered into my local library this afternoon and requested a library card. The kind librarian (have you ever met an unkind librarian?) apologized because they only had the keychain-size cards available.

“We’ve had so many people sign up for library cards this week that we haven’t had time to get new ones in yet. I’m so sorry!”

There was no need to apologize. I assured her that I couldn’t have been happier at the news. They don’t have a grocery store in this post-Katrina seaside community. But they have a library and people are flocking to it as a resource.

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Today it will be a year since I had a cellphone for daily use.

How have I survived without a mobile device with me at all times? Quite simply.

I write more letters now than ever before. Real letters in unreliable script poured from whatever pen I happen to have on hand. I’ve taken a liking to buying boxes of gaudy cards from discount bins and using them instead of nice stationary. It adds a bit of whimsy and relies on existing production.

I use Skype, Google Chat, and some of 37Signals project management tools to carry the weight of business communication. Then there’s Twitter, of course. Email keeps everything together. That all takes place on a computer. There are no fire alarms or vibrating warnings that go off when an email lands in my inbox. No chirps warn me of tweets.

I know the sound of silence.

There has also been a downside. A disconnect that meant missed moments of fun conversation and perhaps a few extra dollars. But that’s it. No government has been overthrown, business gone bankrupt, or child lost a life because I didn’t have a cellphone at the ready. I was able to blunder and triumph, rise and fall, New Yorker and lolcatz–all without a cellphone.

I took a year away from frenetic tech because I wanted to see if life was really all that boring without a digital device in hand. I wanted to see if I really, truly needed to be available to everyone at all hours of the day or if my digital connectedness was just a half-hearted attempt at relevance. It turns out that yes, parts of life can be made more fulfilling with sparing use of tech. That shouldn’t come as a surprise.

What did surprise me was just how well all my existing contacts took to the shift in my communication preference. Friends shifted from offhand texts every day to more substantial email conversations. Family soon learned the joys of Skype and started using it with each other as well. Work contacts took it in stride.

It only took a few weeks and I was in a new groove. A groove with far fewer beeps and buzzes in it.

Now, as the year comes to a close, I look around and I’m not attracted to the smart phones anymore. I don’t like the idea of answering phone calls in the middle of a conversation (I once did so gravely). Why would I want to respond to tweets, texts, emails, and notices from multiple applications in addition to requests for verbal conversation? I wouldn’t.

I worry that we’ve become so caught up in the idea of always being “on” that we’ve lost sight of what it means to really be present in just one conversation. Does your phone go to the dinner table with you? Mine did. Does your phone come out at the slightest whiff of boredom? Mine did. I’m hoping to avoid most of that this time around.

My thought is to have something small, perhaps a netbook, that I can use for email and simple browsing. It will be big enough that I won’t carry it with me everywhere but small enough to fit in a day bag.

And for a phone? I’m looking for something that works just along the same lines of what Alexander Graham Bell imagined. I’d like to have something I can speak into and say things like, “you mean a lot to me” or, “it’s been great working with you” or perhaps, “I’m sorry” and be entirely present in my words.

I suppose I’ll have to sign up for Facebook again so I can create a group: “OMG, I lost mah phone ag4in. I can haz ur #?” It’ll be epic.

I’m kidding.

Or am I?

I’m glad for your thoughts (and phone recommendations).