Park Benches

What were park benches made for?  When one thinks of going to the park, it is of personal experience that one thinks of playing games, barbeques, exercise, walking the dog, and other such activities.  Granted one needs to rest periodically throughout such events, and one most certainly sits down whilst enjoying a delicious picnic.

But are both purposes not served by the ever loved and appreciated picnic table?  And is not the grass softer than wood to plop one's rump on?  Most certainly the grass is better for laying and sprawling out, or for curling up amidst a lover's passionate embrace.  One could argue that if the weather is particularly wet, then the grass will most certainly be as well.  But would it not be the same for a park bench equally as exposed to the elements?

What, then, possessed some soul to believe that creating a bench specifically for the purpose of parks was a, "damn fine idea"?

Perhaps, dear reader, park benches were made as a sort of, "lookout point".  Granted, they are not always placed in locations of great vantage--some are even hidden and provide a view of almost nothing--but they are always placed within eyesight of something.  And therefore, they always provide the opportunity for some-such-thing to be observed.  Sometimes for only a few minutes, other times for a few hours.

I ask you, dear reader, next time you are out, take a look around at the various benches in various places--for they do not always have to be parks--and take note of what you will see.  Most likely the reader will see lonesome but somehow contented individuals, often with legs crossed perhaps a cigarette, pen, or camera in hand.  Or perhaps all three.

And perhaps then one will begin to see the reason for which park benches were created: one of the most important things of all.

Prioritized Problems

I seem to have stumbled across a problem.  Mind you, it's not a bad problem.  On the contrary, it's quite definitely a good problem.  Some will argue that, "good problem" is a completely contradicting statement, and I'm sure those people will come out with a completely convincing argument.  Good for them.

I like to write.  Someone who doesn't fully understand love might say that I love to write.  Sometimes I say that I love to write.  And whenever I feel an overwhelming plethora of emotions all centered around the same core of emotions start to build up, I do my best to let them out through writing.  Other times I get this tingly energy that travels from my brain to my fingertips, and the moment I sit down to clack away at computer keys it's like an addict getting their fix.  Those are the moments I hear myself saying, "I love to write". 

The problem is, I only get those moments when I've had plenty of quality time with my mind.  Some people call that, 'day dreaming' but I long ago decided that, 'day dreaming' is a prejudice term and so I call it, "thinking".  The problem with thinking is that I need a solid several hours of thinking about similar things in order to even contemplate writing any of it down.  Up until the past 7 months or so, I've had that.

I've had time to sit up until the late hours of the night analyzing grammar and all its silly rules.  I've had time to realize ridiculous paradoxes about writing.  I've had time to talk to myself about the insults hidden in terms such as, "You are a Gentleman and a Scholar".

But lately, I haven't had time.  I haven't had time because I recognized a very simple fact: I love people more than I like to write.  There most certainly are certain people that I certainly love more than certain others, but in general, I love people.  I love spending time with people.  I love laughing with people.  I love being with people.  I love learning from people.

And I've been learning lots.

There was a time in my life when I would have frantically gone to incredible efforts to write about all that I was learning.  I would listen for key phrases and come up with comparably deep metaphors in relation to all my musings, and then place them as neatly as possible on paper sheets and computer screens, hoping that someone else in the world would enjoy them.

It took me a while to learn that I learn much more as a sponge, not a filter.  I learn better when I listen rather than passing the message on.  I learn better when listening to people I love and loving people I love.  So naturally, I've been spending all my free time with people I love instead of writing.

The problem is, I like to write, and it's distracting.

The Speech

Today's post isn't written by me.  It's written by an 10 year old boy who I have done part-time respite care/work with on and off over the past year or so.  He had to write a speech in school, and this is what he wrote:

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Today I am going to talk about Isaac.  Isaac is my best friend in the whole world!  one of the things I love to do with Isaac is spend time with him.  The first time I met him was when we got the tav from him.  This was five years ago.  I remember how fast my dad went on the road.  Guess how fast he went?  I am not going that speed ever…well not in fields.  He went 60.  My dad did have his helment on.  I was too young and too afraid to ride on the tav then.  Now every Monday Isaac picks us up around six o'clock and we go to his house to do some activities.

Isaac is fun to play with in free time.  We like to scare Isaac by making him think there are ghosts in his car.  We go for mud drives in the woods.  Isaac is cool because we can wrestle with him.  Isaac is cool because we can have snowball fights with him.  Isaac is helpful when he has time to shovel our driveway.  Isaac is helpful when he can fix our T.V.  Isaac is helpful when he can help out with the A.T.V.  Isaac is just a friendly guy.  Isaac is friendly he is never grumpy or upset.  Isaac is always making me laugh.  Isaac is always happy and always talking.

Me and Isaac go for rides in the woods.  I like to go fishing with Isaac.  Rock climbing is an adventure with Isaac.  A favourite past time is hiking in the woods with Isaac.  My brother and I like to jump on the trampoline at Isaac's house.  Biking in the rain is messy but fun with Isaac.  AS you can tell I have so much fun doing fun things with Isaac.

When it is raining we play chess or video games.  I like playing chess and video games with Isaac because he goes easy on me when we play chess…and I usually win.  I can't think of one game that I lost!

It is nice to have an adult friend.  Isaac has his own car now and license so he can drive me over to his house.  Sometimes Isaac picks me up from school.  Isaac can fix our T.V. and that is one thing my other friends can't do.

Do you want to have an adult friend?  If you do have one what do you do with him?  I have quite a few adult friends.  So many that I can't name them all.  But I'll try: Isaac, George, Uncle Wally, Layton and Jacob…Isaac's little brother.  I don't know him as well as Isaac...

Quite Content

I get this feeling sometimes.  I'm not really sure what to call it, and yet I know several words which perfectly describe it.  It's a feeling that makes me feel as though I can't control it, but all of my being is perfectly alright with that.

It's a feeling that only comes once in a while, and even when I don't feel like feeling this feeling at all, just the memory of it locks my heart in place.  It doesn't overwhelm, but it certainly overtakes.  It doesn't force it's way in, but it is definitely undeniable.  It isn't grand, but it is undoubtedly not in the least bit minute. 

It's warm, bright--but not overbearing--pleasant, calm, content, joyful, beautiful, and above all; deep.  Oh, how very deep.  This feeling wells up like a soft and warm spring flowing from the very basic cores of my soul.  It comes from somewhere greater.  Somewhere beyond my own heart and yet so intimately intertwined with it.  This feeling beams--but not too brightly.  This feeling is made of stuff that poets and psalmists have longed after for years, and yet has been captured in the simplest and sweetest of lullabies.

Whenever I have set out to describe this feeling, I have become overwhelmed with what can only be compared to a sense of unworthiness, as though I am encountering and digging into something much greater and complex than I or any other human being shall ever be able to fathom.  All I can muster is to associate it with words such as, "right" and, "beautiful".

Many will think I am looking to describe the feeling of love, but I, in my poetic state, feel as though the word never quite does justice to the feelings I get when I look into the eyes of Jessica Liggins.  The word, "love" does not quite describe the feelings felt when I am privileged to hear the pure and unadulterated laugh of Jessica Liggins.  Nothing quite does it when I use, "love" to encapsulate how I feel when she reaches out to hold my hand or places her delicate head on my shoulder.

Perhaps the word, "falling" flits across my mind, but even still to say, "falling in love" seems too weak of a phrase.  It is possible that I will never find a perfect word to describe these feelings, but that is perfectly alright. 

For now, I know I feel them sometimes, and if that is all I ever know, I shall be quite content.