New eyes. I hadn't considered new eyes. In fact, a voyage of discovery I did not seek. Content was I with my familiar landscape. But now, set adrift and led by a swift current, my two boys and I do well to keep our eyes, old or new, open. And even though old eyes seemed fine, maybe even pretty good, undeniably I am on an unwanted voyage while all my senses recalibrate.
Disclaimer: While sitting on the screened porch of neighbors enjoying a Memorial Day cook-out, my eyes "discovered" the intriguing quote on a bottle of Hennepin. Those Belgian Monks sure know a thing or two about the wisdom of the ages. And a good ale.
Death is a strange thing, friends. I never experienced someone close to me, really close, dying. Regardless of your beliefs, the finality of death, in this plane of existence, is profoundly disorienting. I see death, and it's brief companion, life, differently now. While life on this planet is abundant and pervasive, a single life is capricious and fleeting, followed by eternal death. The counterpoint of fleeting life and eternal death now is very alive in me.
What once seemed big, now seems small. The political dealings in Washington seem small and trivial. What are we arguing about? Why does everyone seem mad all the time? Why not spend our fleeting time with the friends and neighbors we love? Perhaps it is a deeper problem. Perhaps we need to invest more of our fleeting time learning to love, and be loved by, our friends and neighbors. To do otherwise is madness.