At Least They're Committed

Perhaps the finality of our earthly existence is not how many heartbeats or how many breaths we take, and not even the moments that take our breath away. Rather its how our brain and our heart are married to each moment. Perhaps life — how we lived, when we get to go home — is connected to what was presented to us, as if an interactive movie that the heavenly hosts are watching along with us as we experience it firsthand. Perhaps it is made meaningful by how we process and react. Whether good or bad, a lesson. What if the extent and longevity of our lives comprise what we come to understand and when we understand it, and the ultimate depth of our enlightenment. If we’re enlightened at all.

Then maybe we get to go home.

I pensively mulled this over a glass of crisp white wine in the warmth and security of our newly renovated sunroom (well, a new door and new windows). Good evening, this is Tripping Raul . . . oh, wait, that’s for the podcast. This is the blog.

Pretty damn proud of myself for launching that-there podcast. Even though it is absolutely, positively dreadful, I’m learning so very much and I’m honestly having a good time. It helps that I have a fantastic team to work with — Mike most of all — that I can call on when something makes zero sense to my extreme-right-sided (not to be confused with politics) brain.

While sitting there window-gazing and willing the leaves to at last burst from their buds, it occurred to me that although curiosity killed the cat and satisfaction brought him back, perhaps a dog’s curiosity wouldn’t be fatal in the first place. I asked ChatGPT to visit this notion and this is what it came up with:

Dog found a bone, old and grand,
Buried deep beneath the sand.
“What secrets do you hide?” he pried,
As the bone just sighed and sighed.

Into the forest, dark and deep,
Where shadows dance and secrets keep.
The dog, undaunted, went ahead,
While wiser creatures stayed in bed.

He met a fox, sly and slick,
Who offered him a magic trick.
“Turn back now, oh foolish pup,
Or drink the brew from wisdom’s cup.”

But our dog, with wagging tail,
Chose the cup without a fail.
Drank the brew, felt something new,
His mind expanded, and he grew.

Curiosity didn’t kill this happy mutt,
Instead, it filled his knowledge glut.
He trotted home, wise as an owl,
With a sage’s grin and a philosopher’s howl.

Satisfaction brought him back,
With newfound wisdom for his pack.

Not too bad!

While this blog is little more than the ponderings of an empath, the podcast is centered around my experiences as a journalist — possibly with pensive ponderances throughout. I am trying to subtly reflect what ethics were back in the late 20th Century and what I hope to reintroduce today in some small way.

I caught up with my dear friend Moose the other day, as we were helping to organize the 15th anniversary reunion of the demise of the major metro daily that we loved. Always when we get together, the first thing he does is ask many questions, which gives me time to give him a thorough looking over and come up with some of my own. This past couple of times he’s been dealing with a broken wrist, which is horrible, but definitely a good conversation starter.

It’s his genuine interest in others that sets Moose apart from other people. Evidently when he and his girlfriend recently left a gathering at my house where another couple was here as well, she asked him how he got to be friends with so many attractive women. That deep curiosity about others — no matter whether attractive or not — is how.

Genuine interest, heightened observational skills and the ability to translate those images and discoveries into words make great journalists. Not ego, not visibility, not fame or even a Pulitzer. It’s genuine curiosity outside of one’s self, and the ability to embrace that responsibility to share with the greater masses for the greater good.

How long each of us is meant to be here is a mystery. Only God knows . . . and maybe in my case Gabriel but he’s not telling and I wouldn’t ask him to. Not in earnest anyway.

“Can I go home yet?”

“NO!”

*Sigh*

Wherever our life takes us, I believe — no, I know — we are here for a reason and that our life’s mission must be to fulfill it even though we won’t necessarily understand (or remember?) what it was until afterward. Maybe those of us who were called to be truth-tellers are providing those we touch the avenue through which they can fulfill their callings.

Time for another glass of crisp white wine and to will the green-tip buds to burst before my very eyes while, pensively and filled with wonder and curiosity, I relax in the newly renovated sunroom.