Help Me Keep This Buzz, Please

Playground (2024) will elevate you as a thinker while enchanting you as a reader. It might confuse you; it will definitely challenge you. If you've read or end up reading this most recent novel by the astonishing Richard Powers, please remember to contact me either here or offline. I desperately want to retain the glow of this extraordinary - if at times frustrating - reading experience for as long as possible. And I really want to hear your take on the mind-blowing conclusion, perhaps the most imaginative ending of any book I've read in two decades.  

My journey with this remarkable book was not a wholly smooth one. Because both of the trusted readers in my life who finished it before me - my wife and the reading soulmate who first recommended it to me soon after its release - told me simply that it was another home run by Powers, through the first 200+ pages, I was innocently captivated. As he did with both Echo Maker & Bewilderment, Powers grabbed me immediately with his undeniable storytelling gift, expertly balancing human dynamics with the miraculous mysteries of the natural world. As with The Overstory, I was dazzled by his staggering prose and masterful toggling of first and third person voices. But then the foreshadowing curveballs - make that screwballs - began to upset my reading equilibrium. Not enough to extract me from the compelling story but, my unanswered questions began accumulating. Playground demands any reader's full engagement.   

I'll spare you the details of my childish temper tantrum as I finished mid-day this past Sunday and tell you that all I could manage at that point was a visit to the gym to cool down. Later, two conversations with my wife helped me come to peace with the stunning denouement of this treasure. Still not able to let go, I scheduled a coffee meeting for early today to further digest Playground with that reading soulmate who'd first recommended it to me. That helped some more. But I'm far from sated. That's where I hope some of you enter the picture. Please: Help me keep this buzz, will you?  

Final note: Though tempted to write a post about some of the other novels I finished since publishing the post directly below on June 8, now I'm glad I waited until I read Playground. 

Reflections From The Bell Curve: The Line of Beauty

You're One Click Away from Musical Rapture

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JAZ1nfuluz0&list=RDJAZ1nfuluz0&start_radio=1

I am so fortunate to have dear friends who direct me to musical treasures like the performance above. I promise this will be the best five minutes you spend today. I defy you to stay unmoved watching it.

Coming soon: A re-construction of iteration #59 in my Mt. Rushmore Series. Thanks Ruth.  

Reflections From The Bell Curve: #59: The Mt. Rushmore Series

The Elusiveness of Clarity

Some days, things get clear for me. I feel like I understand myself and have less trouble accepting my flaws.  Music is cleansing; food tastes better; I'm more focused. In between those days, clarity is an elusive quality for me. How about for you?

I'm not unhappy or angry on those in between days. But I come across a little less grateful and patient, so invariably people close to me will ask if I am, in fact, unhappy or angry. And though some would call this my "mood", that strikes me as an oversimplification. Today I don't feel at all in a bad mood. I feel pretty good, well rested and happy with the interactions I've had so far. But I'm not feeling particularly clear.

One of the benefits of being committed to keeping a journal is I have learned to wait out days like today, knowing a day of clarity is not far off.  On the infrequent occasions when I indulge myself and read a few successive entries in old journals, I can sometimes detect an ebb and flow i.e., days like today vs. days of clarity. Still, I've not been successful in discovering what triggers those days of clarity or how to predict when they will occur. As always, I'm curious what you have learned about this elusive quality. 

Plateau, Schmateau

When did you most recently feel stuck? How did you dislodge yourself?

How many expressions do you suppose there are for those times when we hit a wall of any kind? And what is the link between feeling stuck or hitting a wall and locating the needed motivation to get out of our own way? Have you ever known anyone who has escaped this human dilemma, no matter what it's called - running out of steam, trouble locating the mojo, being dried up, whatever? If you know such a person, would you introduce me, right away? In the meanwhile, nomenclature aside, what is your go-to strategy when this plagues you?  

Although it usually pleases me when any reader finds value in the suggestions made by other readers to questions I pose here, I'm feeling less generous today. I'm not looking for a magic bullet - per se - but given my current stasis, my awareness about the predictability of plateaus we all experience in life from time to time is not real useful to me. I want a practical strategy - preferably one I can implement the moment I read your comment - to help me jump-start the engine, get the juices flowing, unclog the pipes, etc. These past few days, my usual stuff - exercise, meditation, reading, playing guitar - has not gotten me off the starting block. 

I guess right now I'd welcome the flexibility to be able to kick my own ass.

Putting Siri Back in the Bottle

Isn't it a near certainty that our lives are headed toward more dependence on technology? What is your guess of the impact of that increased dependence on the following: Attention deficit disorder? Listening skills? Critical thinking? 

The data I'm seeing does not fill me with hope. In addition, my regular interaction with others dismays me increasingly. I've had conversations with friends who acknowledge a connection between their diminished attention span and cell phone use. I've also witnessed - as I'm sure you have - many of the impediments technology helps to create with respect to listening and conversation, a phenomenon Sherry Turkle expertly explored in her still startling book Reclaiming Conversation (2015). I'm alarmed by the rising rate of adolescent suicide, a trend many researchers attribute to the pernicious effect of ubiquitous social media. The implications of AI - especially in the creative domain - terrify me.  

That said, my inadequate solution of near abstinence is complicated. First, it frequently puts me at odds with people, including loved ones. And in what is best described as an Uber-disconnect, I'm a blogger, for crying out loud.

Still, disconnect aside, despite my obstinate resistance to most technology, I'm neither advocating for a return to the horse-and-buggy era nor am I oblivious to the benefits technology has delivered. But I am deeply concerned where we are headed. Consequently, I'd sincerely welcome hearing from you. What are some practical strategies all of us can begin using to assist in putting Siri, Alexa, et al back in the bottle, at least from time-to-time?

Reflections From The Bell Curve: The Choir And The Monkey  

Delayed De-Brief

Even though more than a week has passed since we returned from our latest National Park adventure, I'm still de-briefing the time spent away from home. This ever happen to you, i.e., you feel like there's more to be extracted from an exceptional travel experience?

Front and center in my delayed de-brief is a sense of lingering gratitude for the unremitting miracle of nature. Each hike we took in Yosemite and Sequoia National Park was more spectacular than the one before. The breathtaking views in both parks defy description. I'll never forget the awe I felt walking around the world's largest tree. 

I've also had ample time to reflect on how traveling with Road Scholar has enriched our time away from home, beginning with the first trip we took with them in 2015. It would be hard to over-state how much more relaxed I am knowing I don't have to think about anything other than showing up on time each day; Road Scholar does everything else. The direct consequence of that? I'm fully present. I'm more receptive to the information the terrific guides dispense as well as the beauty engulfing me. I'm also more open to interacting with fellow travelers and my creative riffing feels limitless. Ideas and inspiration come at me - unimpeded - from everywhere. I don't need directions, hiking maps, or anything aside from water, my notebook, and a pen. Difficult to describe how liberating that feels. 

My delayed de-brief also reminded me to add a note to our gratitude jar. I feel fortunate to have the means to enjoy experiences like these and doubly fortunate that my partner of forty-seven + years is a willing and enthusiastic travel companion.  

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Practicing Gratitude

Words for the Ages: Line Thirty-Six

"All your money won't buy another minute". 

I've never owned a recording by Kansas. That includes their biggest hit single - Dust in the Wind - the song from which the lyric above is lifted. Always liked the tune - nice acoustic guitar, inventive violin lines, subtle vocal harmony, moderately bleak but largely solid lyric - but I'd mostly stopped buying singles by 1978 and their other music didn't grab me enough to invest in an LP.

My disinterest in Kansas aside, I submit that terse phrase will outlive composer/lyricist Kerry Livgren. I hope he'll forgive the fact that I transplanted the word buy from the end of his phrase to the middle. In the original, Livgren needed buy to complete a rhyming couplet (with "sky"). But for me, the clumsy syntax of "...won't another minute buy" dulls the impact and lands with a thud. However, at least one faithful reader and good friend pushed back at my presumptuousness when I shared this notion. She gently chastised me for minimizing "artistic license". We agreed to disagree.

You decide where you want to land, then place the word buy where it suits you. No matter really because in the end, those concise seven words stand alone and contain a universal truth. They are words for the ages, clumsy syntax or artistic license notwithstanding. 

A Jolt

Happened to be changing the widget called featured post on the left side of my home page when I noticed a comment the older of my two sisters had made many years ago on the post I'd most recently resurrected from my archives. What a jolt that comment delivered to me. 

How I miss the once-frequent visits to the bell curve she made for years. Nowadays, I'll occasionally read a recent post to her, usually involving some family-of-origin folklore. Though she can no longer type in a comment, the smile on her face is often enough to tell me I've gotten through. 

I'm grateful for that smile just as I am for my sister's frequent comments during the first nine + years of my blog's life. In the early years, her comments helped inspire me to keep publishing even when my view numbers were discouraging and it seemed as though few people besides her, my wife, and my daughter paid any attention. And that jolt from her years-old comment then further reminded me of her early-in-life embrace of my awful high school poetry. It would be difficult to over-state how her lifelong support of my creative efforts has sustained me. Bad poetry, abysmal early songs, marginal musical endeavors, my blog; she never wavered. Who has been that kind of anchor in your life? When was the last time you acknowledged that person? What are you waiting for? 

 

Reflections From The Bell Curve: This Moment