Words for the Ages: Line Forty-Three

"We all have wings, but some of us don't know why."

Of the several long-running series created for my blog, Words for the Ages - now in its tenth year - seems to light a brighter fire than others, especially with respect to reader comments. Special thanks today to JT, who recently reminded me of the terse phrase above from an INXS song entitled Never Tear Us Apart. Today is the third instance when I've used a sharp reader's input to help keep this series vibrant and true to its mission.   

Who can reasonably dispute that some people go through life without realizing their potential? This essential truth is delivered in the phrase above via the use of wings as a metaphor; simple and elegant. Eleven words for the ages; concise, able to stand on their own, timeless. Although not often cited for his lyrics, Michael Hutchence, the charismatic lead singer of INXS, clearly hit the mark this time. Got a lyric you think conveys a similar message just as succinctly? Please share it here. I'm confident I'm not the only one interested.  

I'm paying close enough attention all the time to know there's a finite supply of these aphorisms disguised as song lyrics. However, I'm pleased to report some astute readers have apparently been inspired enough by recent iterations of Words for the Ages that they have given me a surplus to work from over the coming months. So, stay tuned commenters. That gem you suggested could be next. And big thanks for your help.

To Return or Not to Return?

Not long after leaving the full-time work world, I realized I needed a method to help me decide which authors I'd return to, given the number of reading years likely left to me. And until quite recently, I was reasonably happy with the method I settled on, i.e., if an author disappointed once - no matter how many winners had preceded that disappointment - I was done.

But soon after a satisfactory - although not mind-blowing - experience with an author new to me, I recognized the need to alter my sixteen-year-old model. This newer iteration is more flexible while retaining the needed discrimination of the original. See if you agree.

Heretofore, authors will be placed into one of three tiers for this reading snob:

a.) Those I will not return to, under any circumstances. The names of those authors will never be mentioned on this blog. Private conversations? A different kettle of fish.

b.) Those I might return to, if the right situation presents itself. More info on tier "b" available upon request. The author alluded to in the second paragraph above currently resides in tier "b". 

c.) Those I will return to, until they disappoint, at which point that author will move to tier "b." The number of disappointments allowed before being relegated to tier "a"? An open question.

Although curious to hear your thoughts on my flawless method, I'm even more curious to hear how it lines up - or does not - with your own. No judgments, or at least, not that many. 

          

A Familiar and Sacred Place

Taking for granted the natural beauty of familiar places is easy and unfortunate. 

Few things serve to remind me as much of this all-too-human tendency as early autumn in my beloved and lifelong home state. While on a recent hike at nearby Hartshorne Park, the symphony of colors and breathtaking view from an overlook above the Sandy Hook peninsula and Gateway National Recreation Area reminded me again how fortunate I am to be proximate to such splendor. I was not surprised hearing gasps from several of my hiking companions approaching that overlook. Lots of pictures were taken. None that I saw captured a fraction of the magic. Visit this website for an idea of what I re-experienced.

 

Sandy Hook - Wikipedia

However, near the conclusion of the hike, our leader asked the group if anyone would like to take a few extra minutes and walk to the lighthouses that sit atop this magnificent spot. And though I'd been there before, the perfect weather, those majestic trees, and the fellowship of others who enjoy the outdoors capped off a peak morning. Though the picture below showcases a manmade vs. a natural feature, the cloudless blue sky enveloping that 1862 lighthouse brings back the wonder I experienced that day walking through a familiar and sacred place.

Anchoring (Etc.)

When trying to integrate a new practice into your life - be it something mundane like flossing your teeth or something more substantive like regular exercising or reading more - what strategies have you found effective in helping the practice take hold?

I can't recall either how or when I first heard about the power of anchoring in helping a practice take hold. However, I do remember over thirty-five years ago deciding that integrating a meditation practice into my life was important. I also recall how much trouble I had at the time finding a consistent place and time to sit and pay attention only to my breathing. My daughter had just been born, I had a full time and two part-time jobs, life was pretty hectic. 

But the one thing I did Monday to Friday that I knew would not change anytime soon was driving to my full-time job in the a.m. Somehow (had I read about anchoring somewhere? did someone suggest it as a technique? did I identify it as anchoring after landing on my solution?), I came up with meditating in my car in a remote spot in the parking lot of my full-time work location. I left myself an extra half-hour each morning - which also helped me get up earlier and beat most of the rush hour traffic - and, except for days either too cold or too hot to sit in my car for thirty minutes, that consistent place and time issue was solved.

Rather than sharing other examples of how anchoring has worked for me, I'd prefer now to hear your strategies. Perhaps you've never specifically connected your success at integrating a new practice to anchoring it to something else in your life that is a constant. Even so, try re-creating your success story - as I did above - and then share here how you got there. Anchoring or not, maybe your story will help others who have struggled to find an effective way of getting a new practice to take hold. 

  

Close to a Guarantee

Finishing The Correspondent (2025), my first thought was how could any open soul not like this book? Virginia Evans's debut novel is heartfelt, well-written, and totally engaging. Put aside its readability and humanness; it's also a bibliophile's dream. 

 

The letters sent and received by the protagonist - Sybil Van Antwerp - often refer to literature, one of her passions. In addition, Sybil is in the habit of writing to authors nearly as frequently as she writes to her brother Alex or best friend Rosalie. About halfway through this captivating novel, your favorite blogger - wearing his list making bibliophile hat - began keeping track of all the books and authors cited by Sybil and others, just in case one of you were to later wonder. The final tally? Around thirty-five. (Before you ask, yes, after beginning that list at the halfway point I did then return to the start to ensure the accuracy of the final number. Forgive me father.) 

 

Over the fifteen+ year history of my blog, I've published more than five hundred posts about books. And though every one of those five hundred+ met my sole criteria** - i.e., this book elevated me - for more than a few, I felt it necessary to provide a caveat, about language, subject matter, density, etc. There is no caveat attached to my recommendation of The Correspondent. I'm confident this novel will appeal to almost any reader.

** Over that same period, I've never published a single post about a book that left me cold. And there have been an ample number of those. 

Listening to Myself in Act Three

Although flying back and forth between coasts for years now has had clear downsides, for this film geek, having a wide selection of films to choose from while in the air has almost evened the balance sheet. 

On this trip, I was enthralled end-to-end watching Disclosure Day. The nicest surprise? Stumbling across this engrossing and intelligent Stephen Spielberg film with no pre-knowledge. How can this be the case for an aficionado, you might reasonably ask. Several years ago, I made a resolution to try and bypass reviews and any "buzz" surrounding new books and films. As much as possible in Act Three, I now attempt to arrive at my own unvarnished opinion of the literature and movies I'm exposed to. I've done so with music most of my adult life. Why then the struggle throughout Act Two with my two other abiding passions? 

I've never been fully satisfied answering that question. In Act One of anyone's life, it's predictive - maybe unavoidable - for our opinions to be influenced by many things e.g., parents, peers, mentors, others more educated and experienced than our young selves. As we become actualized adults, those influences begin having less impact. But in my case, although the influence of parents and peers became less of a factor in Act Two, the voices of cultural critics seemed to grow. And the more esteemed the critic - Harold Bloom, John Leonard, James Wood - the more I found myself occasionally parroting their views. Why? Again, I'm still trying to land on a satisfactory answer to that. 

Hence, my Act Three resolve re movies and books. I have no idea what the critics have said about Disclosure Day. Because it's a Stephen Spielberg film, I'm reasonably confident there has been plenty of buzz. My daughter in the film industry certainly knew about it and asked me what I thought soon after we got to her place. My buzz to her? Clearly worth two+ hours, especially to distract myself while in the air, in a cramped seat, having difficulty concentrating on my book. What would John Leonard have had to say about this movie if he was still with us? Not sure. Hope I wouldn't have paid him any mind. 

  

A Friday Sermon

Holding myself accountable for consistently blogging for over fifteen years has given me a newfound respect for many things, including a few professions. Given my longtime agnosticism, perhaps the biggest surprise to me has been how much I've grown to appreciate members of the clergy.

Have you ever thought carefully about the amount of effort it takes to develop and deliver a sermon or homily every single week? I ask you to consider the following: 

* You're often speaking to many of the same people each week. So, how soon can you recycle stuff?
* You're drawing your material from the same - admittedly rich - source material each time. 

* You're speaking in a very quiet space, which means that aside from an occasional crying baby, nothing ever interrupts you. Net result: Every mispronounced or misused word is heard, every lapse in logic or flow is noticeable. 
* You're the center of attention for 10-15 minutes non-stop AND you have to draw a compelling conclusion.

Look at that list. How consistently well do you think you could do this? I've been in front of people as a musician, teacher, and speaker most of my professional life. But when I think about meeting all the requirements on that list, it gives me real pause. There are additional parallels with blogging - staying fresh, remaining relevant, keeping people interested/awake. Thank goodness I don't rely on people regularly tithing to keep this gig.

My Journey with Julian Barnes

Because Julian Barnes has indicated Departure(s) (2026) will be the last book of his career, soon after finishing it, I began reflecting on my twenty-year journey with this modern-day master. 

That journey started upon receiving Arthur and George (2005) as a gift from a member of my reading posse, in this case, my oldest niece. I've lost count how many new-to-me authors have later been added to my unmanageable "must return to" list after one of my posse have turned me onto them. That novel - Barnes's 10th as it turns out - ensured him a spot on that list.

I got my second taste of Barnes's undeniable gift when the first book club I ever joined selected The Sense of an Ending (2011). This was not long after I'd left the full-time work world and started my blog. I've since re-read that jewel three times, recommending it to every discerning reader I know. Additionally, I've mentioned it here at least a dozen times, in varying contexts. In my opinion, it is a nearly perfect novel.

Reflections from the Bell Curve: The Sense Of An Ending

Barnes's second memoir - Levels of Life (2013) - made it three for three. Then Elizabeth Finch (2022) marked the first time in my reading life to that point that an author hit four home runs in a row. I knew right then that Barnes's back catalog was in my reading future.

Reflections from the Bell Curve: Brain Food

Most recently, another trusted member of my reading posse - this time the moderator of that same book club, now a good friend for fifteen years - suggested Departure(s) for the book club of two we kicked off twelve years back. As soon as she mentioned Barnes, I lunged at the opportunity to return to him. I didn't know when I started Departure(s) about this being his last book. But after he knocked me out, again, my resolve to return to his back catalog was fortified as this reflection began taking shape.

 

I'd welcome hearing about a journey you've taken with an author. How and when did it begin? Which events from your life coincided with the literary landmarks on that journey? Where are you headed next with that revered author?