Friday, June 29, 2018

Being, not being, and beans

So I got a thing going on, not so unusual at my age, and given the chaotic nature of American medicine (and given my reticence and Oirish ability to ignore anything less than my heart ripped from my chest and beating in someone else's hand), I won't know much for at least a week, and possibly even longer.

The love of my life and I have planned a trip to France, and we're going, and that's that.

Still, I'm a tad unsettled, though the last couple of things turned out (mostly) OK. As one ages, the tide turns, or whatever fuckmook metaphor you choose to use. (I stole "fuckmook" from David Simon.)

So here I am , a beautiful June afternoon, hacking anything I can with an electric trimmer, a push mower, and hedge clippers (fuck near destroyed the grape vines when my sister was killed--turns out you *cannot* kill grape vines) and I stumbled across the beans and they gave me this:

Mortality is a blessing, until it's in your face, and then it's a fookin', well, not sure what to call it--still a blessing, I suppose. But the fookin' beans keep making more fookin' beans, and I'll keep eating the fookin' beans while I can, and, in a deep sense, that is enough.




Even when I do not believe it's enough, it's enough....

3 comments:

Kate T said...

Each day is a blessing. Every drop of sweat is a blessing. The damn beans are a blessing.
You are a blessing- and that is a truth.

Enjoy calvados and cidre and each other. Your time in France will be wonderful. And just be. It is enough. And the work that we do with young people is enough.

I've been thinking about cooking on the boat all those years ago and the books that saw me through the times when I was sure I couldn't do the thing in front of me. The Tassajara Bread Book was one of the four core texts. I've had this running through my head all week:
Rock and Water
Wind and Tree
Bread Dough Rising

Vastly all
Are patient with me.


Be well, Doyle. Dammit, just be you (and be gentle with those hedges).

doyle said...

Thank you.

Cush Copeland said...

Enjoy your trip. I've commented here before but some time ago, before I became a caregiver to my wife, before I retired from 28 years of high school teaching.

At 68, I am constantly (constantly!) thinking of mortality. I tell my self not to think about it and I tell myself I have had a wonderful life (I have). However, as you know, teachers (or even retired teachers) make the worst students so I do not listen to myself and I assume you might share this characteristic.

So, listen to others, listen to us. Enjoy your life, I know I am working hard to enjoy mine even if the pleasures are very small ones. And if it makes you feel good, prune away.