The title says it all. I have grown older, and I have realized the degree of my foolishness in much of life. Now, this old fool muses about the past and present, and how to have an impact in the world around him. *NOTE: Review the creative commons license on the site before sharing/linking.
Defended. Done. Paperwork signed. Format corrections and final comments to final draft of dissertation are what is left to slog through. Tired. But a happy kind of tired. :)
Thank you all for your support throughout these years. I look forward to a short furlough home before heading on to whatever comes next.
For the first time, this evening, the entire dissertation is complete. One week for my professor to review, one week for the committee to review, and then I should be defending. There will still be editing, but the document as a whole is finally together.
221 pages, ~41,000 words (I swear I didn’t PLAN on it being 41k words, my 41 bretheren… :) ).
Thank you guys for all your support over the years of attempting this…I am sure I couldn’t have done it without the support of my friends.
Hello, all. :) I had a great meeting with my professor this morning. We reviewed all of the final experimental data, those things that were left to do after the major experimental work was completed a couple of weeks ago. We spent nearly two hours going over everything, and he approved the work. I am finished with all my coursework, experimental work, qualifying examinations, and everything except for defending the dissertation. This is what the ABD status means – Ph.D. (ABD) (all but dissertation).
I will be working on getting my dissertation ready for defense over the next 2-3 weeks, and will be submitting for review to my committee. The review will likely take a couple of weeks at least, before we can bring the committee together for the defense. I hope to be defended sometime in the second half of August.
Again, thank you all for your love, support, friendship, and encouragement. This is a very exciting day…I have been smiling for a couple of hours now. :)
The cleric looks up, the unexpected company interrupting…well, not exactly interrupting anything specific. Nothing more specific than silent, aimless thoughts.
An observer of this pilgrim through the wasteland of lost thoughts would have readily presumed ennui – and been sorely mistaken. The baseless blank of such a state would be a welcome oasis from these thoughts. These thoughts that encompass nothing and everything. These thoughts that are aimless and yet share in Atlas’ burden.
Focusing on the source of this..could one call it unwelcome?...interruption, the parson’s eyes land upon the familiar visage. The kind eyes of his assistant retain their basic tenor, but are hued with sadness not normally present.
Oh Potter, please not today…not right now…not more. The unspoken prayer rises. Please, just one more moment without someone else’s problems…
But, the unsaid prayer fades away even in the ephemeral corners of the mind, as the standard courteous, if a bit tired, smile assures the intruder of their welcome. After all, this is the job, is it not?
Without a word, the aide eyes hands the clergyman a letter. Glancing down at the envelope, the prelate’s own eyes widen, and then join his friends – becoming shadowed over with a sadness…and then pain.
That damn handwriting…I’d recognize it anywhere. In just a few heartbeats, the loss is relived…the pain revived deep in the furthest recesses of his heart. Outwardly, the saddened eyes are the only evidence of this letter’s impact. A perfunctory exchange of grateful platitudes social custom demands was stiffly exchanged, freeing the intruder to scurry away from this moment.
A plain envelope, delivered by courier- or at least not the regular mail - “From the desk of…” the late Old Fool. The envelope was addressed simply, Dear Friend,
Slightly trembling fingers open the envelope, careful to preserve it. Inside, a handwritten letter from his beloved friend. The handwriting unmistakable, though marred slightly by the viscous drag of old age. Taking a moment to will the rest of the painful recollections away, he unfolds the letter carefully and begins to read,
A small smile cracks through the somber reader’s expression…You’re right you old coot…I’d be in your house drinking some of that blessed coffee right now if that were at all possible. He stopped abruptly. This admission was doing nothing but rekindling the pain he had just managed to wrestle back under control.
I say this, my friend, because you belong to that very special, very small, and very isolated class of people that I myself know only too well. We go by many names, my friend. We are both secular and mystics. We are lay and clergy. We are sponges, dumpsters, accumulators, relief stations, safe havens, asylum, shelter, stronghold. By virtue of our personalities, professions, or both, we have been given this assignment, this duty, this devoir.
In your own life, my beloved friend, the cause is double – both your profession and your personality have given you this errand in life. You provide the ear to listen, the comforting hand, the safe room for people to unburden. A place where people on the edge of bursting can come release the safety valve. You are the shoring strength of many, the solid foundation of a few.
And yet, through all of this human interaction, through all this sharing and all these emotions, there is but one feeling we do our best to not admit to ourselves. One betrayal of weakness that we’d like to ignore, but must confront. One word that we fear could be the breach that leads to the end. Isolation.
Yes, my friend…isolation amongst so much experience of all of humanity’s most intense emotional states. As the ancient mariner once said, ‘water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink’. For, if you are to remain the sponge, pillar, strength, and repository of so many people’s suffering, fears, insecurity, anger, disappointment, trepidation, and confusion, it becomes primarily a one-way street of human interaction, does it not?
Oh, my dear friend…you don’t know how much I miss your voice right now…
It is your gift, my friend…your ability that few could muster with as much grace and strength. And yet, no one person can be up to that task, can they?
If only you knew old man…today, more than any day, I know I am not equal to the challenge.
But then again…you did know, didn’t you…
My beloved, I am sorry that I was unable to know you for longer. The few months we did have were enough to impress upon me both your value, and your struggle. My Potter had other designs for me, however, and I am left with aught but this final letter to you – tendered in lieu of the conversation I wish you and I could be having on this day of your reading.
Words of wisdom on how best to do your job, how best to counsel, advise, and withstand, I have no more to offer to you than those you know well by now. Instead, I am writing to urge you to remember to care for that one final member of your flock that will need it the most – its shepherd.
If you are not careful, this lifestyle will swallow you whole and never, ever release you. The isolation will envelop you, sink you, and suffocate you. The burdens of others will become your own. And the burdens of a single life are enough for anyone…even you, my dear friend.
I can almost see that wicked old smile as he penned that…
Few and far between as those in our particular guild may be, we do exist in greater numbers than your wretched liar of an isolation would have you believe. I know I am gone, my friend, and for that no apology or begging forgiveness will change your situation. But, I urge you, with all the strength left in this old heart, to not stop seeking until you come across some more of our brethren.
Even if you must stand fast and alone before the daily onslaught, we all must have a place to let our guard down…to lower from our backs the burdens few could carry…to breathe and share. To be each other’s strength and support.
We, my friend, we don’t get to have a bad day. We don’t get to let the others in on our weakness, for if we fall…then they fall with us. But we do…we have bad days, we fall, we falter, we stumble, we cry out, we weep, we doubt. And without your guildmates, we are left with isolation in which to do this.
I beg, beseech, implore you to not go down this dark path, my friend. The road is steep, slippery, and exponentially more difficult to take each step back. I know in these days of isolation, the thought of the Pottter can seem like cold comfort…compared to a flesh-and-blood guildmate. But remember that your Potter never promised perfect days, never guaranteed a rosy existence, and is no magic genie to remove all pain, doubt, and frustration. Rather, the Potter is the grand master of our very special group. The one ultimate repository, sponge, safe place, haven, refuge, and strength. The one guildmate that will never flag, wane, or be overwhelmed with his own day’s troubles. Take heart in this, even as all else fails you.
Find that partnership…that give-and-take friendship. There won’t be many in your entire life…so cherish those few moments, those days that are so sparsely distributed.I enjoyed our short time together, and hope that in that time I helped ease some of that isolation as well.
But, as I leave you, I leave with a heavy heart…I wonder how you will handle the next step. I have faith in you…but I also understand the burdens and the dearth of relief points in our kind of life.
With this letter, this final opportunity for exhortation, I offer my ear to you one more time my friend…today is a bad day, but tomorrow you will be back out there. So, my friend…tell me about it…what has made today a bad day?
Your brother, your friend, your guildmate,
The Old Fool
The letter remains in the quietly weeping man’s hands a few more moments before dropping to the desk below…
My friend…I’ve missed you so much. You’re right…it is a bad day. There are days where I don’t know if I am going to have the strength to go out there and put on the strong face to that endless wave of need, pain, sorrow, anger, despair, and confusion. It’s a tsunami…slowly building, but infinite and strength and just as relentless. Today, Mrs………
Somewhere, the Old Fool smiles upon his friend across the chasm spanned by words, shared experiences, and personal bond. I am here, and we are listening…
Things have been progressing well in the lab. I may very well be looking at being in my last month of "student" mode, and into writing, planning a defense, and getting out of here. Man. honestly, I am going to miss this part of my life. I have thoroughly enjoyed this time. Had I not been...myself and my health junk...I would have easily seen why some people spend 7-10 years of their lives doing this and don't regret it. I have loved the time here, the people, and the experience. Saying goodbye to that is going to be like saying goodbye to a loved one, a companion, a partner. And many loved ones there are to say goodbye to, in fact.
And, as I pen this, I am thinking of the new beginnings out there. The two baby kiddos here and coming in my family - the new life, the next generation. And I am hoping I have something useful to say to them sometime soon. Got to think some more about that writing...
The old Fool's letters continued to be delivered, the latest one arriving at the doorstep of one of his most faithful companions throughout the last months of the struggle that was not to be successful.
The usual greeting we have become accustomed to by now, but which still manages to strike emotion in the hearts of those recipients reading the one final love note and missive from their departed friend, opens this new communique:
Dear Friend,
No tears accompany this greeting, though the eyes of our current reader do mist over. They have spent too long wet these past few weeks, and now have a constant shadow of sadness left.
My beloved, my cherished, my loved...my friend. I am writing this with a heavy heart, for we were not able to have this conversation in person. I had been preparing these words to speak with you, when you were called away to duty elsewhere. I am sorry that it took me so long to come to the words which I needed to share with you, and now that I can share them, must be done from so far away.
Contrary to what he had believed, the friend's countenance becomes lachrymose recalling that sad day. He had longed to stay, but duty had intervened, and he had been recalled to active service for another six month stint away from home. He had considered fighting the order, but the Fool had urged him to follow through with his commitments. With a heavy heart, he had left, but had not been able to return until the cold stone marker was all he could grasp of his long time mentor and confidant...the memory still a bitter pill.
My friend, my brother, I do rejoice in the friends I have. I derive strength from your support. Though I'm broken, bloodied, and too tired to get out of bed for more than these few minutes to share my thoughts with you, I know that tomorrow is another day, and that I'll be able to face it and what it brings. It won't be easy, but it will be doable.
Not every day is a walk in the park. I sincerely thought I was having a heart attack when I went to bed a few hours ago. My chest ached, I could move my fingers, but I could feel nothing in them. A stab of pain went from my shoulder down to my elbow. As I lay there, I almost felt relieved. It meant that my sweet Potter agreed with me: I wasn't up to the task, and He was going to make sure the choice to face down my many personal demons was no longer mine.
I fell asleep, comforted in the fact that I'd written to most of the people I cared about in recent moments, and that I'd spoken to all who I loved and left them with good words the last time I did.
But then I woke up several hours later, and dragged myself to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror for a long, long time, and realized that this was not yet the time. I'm still here, I'm still driven, and I'm still hungry for this life and work. With the Potter's grace, and the love and trust and support of those of you who I turn to in my most difficult hours, I will face down this challenge and overcome. I need to rest now, but tomorrow the nose goes back to the grindstone. The steel must be constantly be worked, sharpened, toughened. I'll make it through, and I'll be a better person because of it all.
These words were the cruelest so far...the optimism that had not played out...the positive thinking that had been worth..nothing. The hot tears kept coming, as the friend paused, sinking just a little deeper into the bitterness that had become a constant companion these past few weeks. Of all the people to lose...could not the Potter have decided to take someone a little less...valuable?
I love all of you, I cherish all of you, and I thank all of you for all your trust and support. In these days when I can feel so alone and so detached from the world, it is good to know that these thoughts I pour into my machine make it through the blackness and out into your hearts and minds where I can feel your prayers and your steadfastness.
The friend's jaw set even tighter...the determination to allow the bitterness to wash over him was almost completely set in stone.
And yet, my friend, I can sense that you are not as joyful as you can be...and if you are reading this missive, I am certain that you will be even less joyful than you may have once been. For this, I am sorry...but I hope that you will give me just a few more minutes of your life, pay attention to this old man even in an echo of my presence, and hear my words..hear them very well.
The friend tried...he certainly tried , but at the moment every fiber of his soul screamed anger and rebellion, and listening to the words of his departed friend with the open heart and sincerity they demanded was not the easiest of tasks.
The reality of it all, my beloved, my friend, is that I have not been well for a long, long time. The reality is that it is a miracle that I live to see a single additional day. The reality is that I should have been gone a long time ago, but I have been given many, many, many more opportunities than I could have ever expected out of this old, malfunctioning husk. But the real kicker of a reality is that no matter how dire the situation...we're all in the same boat. Not any single one of us is guaranteed a single additional second of life...not me, not you, not anyone, my friend.
This was a little bit of a disturbing turn of topics...the friend had recoiled even more from considering his own mortality after life had given him too many opportunities to face the mortality of others. Being asked to face this was not something that was very much to his liking...especially not now...
I merely seek to make sure that all my friends are as comfortable with the reality as I am. My beloved friend, I’ve grown quite accustomed to this reality, and have embraced it, accepted it, and am HAPPY for the time I’m given each and every day rather than be bitter about time that was never mine to demand I be granted in the first place. I believe it is the state in which we all SHOULD live, but I know many of us don’t. Sadly, many of us prefer to remain perfectly blind and oblivious to the miraculous gift that each and every single day of life is.
My close friends and I have all loved each other dearly…dearly. I would lay down my life in a heartbeat for any of you, and most of you would do the same for me. Our pain is each other’s pain, our triumph’s, each other’s joy, and our failures, each other’s sorrow and lessons. And yet, we all are subject to this same reality.
There it was again...that unpleasant feeling, that mortality being rubbed in his face...he was starting to wish he had left this letter sealed and stored...
But here is the true miracle, my friend. This reality, it is a scorpion with no stinger. It is a shadow with no caster. It is a barking dog with no bite. It’s not something to fear, dread, or loathe. At least not in my life, dear one. I will have had a full life, no matter what, and I have an undying faith that I will be pleased with what I see when it is over.
I see peace, not dread. I feel an urgency only to benefit as many young lives as I can, not to worry about how to extend my own. I do, however, feel a responsibility to take care of myself when and how I can so that I can do whatever is reasonable to achieve this goal. But we must, we MUST be able to live richly and fully within the confines of that reality, my friend. Because if the sad day should ever come when I no longer get to enjoy the blessed joy of being with the friends I love, I would want them to be happy for the times we did have rather than angry at the time we were never promised to be given.
And there it was...happy for the times we had, not the times we were never promised. A simple phrase...but a life-changing implication. Can one really choose to live with such a focus?
My friend...I miss you dearly, and I am certain that you miss me. But, we have so many memories...so many blessings...so many joys. So many points in our lives that were not there for either of us to claim as our rightful possessions, but which we were granted anyway.
So, I ask you, my friend, my beloved...what choice are you willing to make today? Will you be a prisoner, a victim, an unwilling conscript in the death march that is life? Or will you apply yourself to the days that you have been given? Will you strive to fill each with the warmth, love, dedication, passion, and LIFE that you can? Will you put off the things that you must do, will you put off happiness and joy? Or will you make each day a worthy final one? Which is better, I ask...a lifetime of hope in some future happiness, or a lifetime of wonderful last days? Be it one final day or thousands...I know where my choice lies, my friend.
Now, as I bid you one final goodbye, I beg that you consider my words carefully my friend. Do not let the root of bitterness take hold...do not allow yourself to waste a single one of your precious days on pointless pursuits. Be strong, be able, and be willing to live the life you have been granted...and make it count. Make each and every single one of those gifts we call days count, and enjoy a life of few regrets.
Goodbye, my friend, and I wish for you a lifetime of joy unparalleled,
The Old Fool
I wonder...do I have what it takes to change my perspective this much? I don't know, my friend...but I will try...Goodbye sweet friend...goodbye, and I hope that the next time we meet I will have given you more reasons to be proud than ashamed....
-- The Old Fool
“If liberty means anything at all it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.” -George Orwell.
A wandering old fool. See the blog's title and description.
George Orwell: “If liberty means anything at all it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.”
"But if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought."
"Each generation imagines itself to be more intelligent than the one that went before it, and wiser than the one that comes after it."
"People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf."
"Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past."
Albert Einstein: “The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing.”
"Most people say that is it is the intellect which makes a great scientist. They are wrong: it is character."
Ayn Rand: "Government "help" to business is just as disastrous as government persecution... the only way a government can be of service to national prosperity is by keeping its hands off."
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