Reflections on "MYSTERIES OF LIFE"

One of my favorite mini essays by E.B. White is, "Mysteries of Life." Recently I referred to it when commenting on an entry on The Writer's Almanac's Facebook Page. And I thought of White's "mysteries" essay again the other morning, prompting me to share it here:

MYSTERIES OF LIFE (9-22-28 E.B. White):

"About once a year the human soul gets into the papers, when British scientist convene. Once a year the mystery of life, the riddle of death, are either cleared up or left hanging. The reports of the learned man enthrall us, and there have been moments when we felt that we were really approaching an understanding of life’s secret. We experienced one of those moments the other morning, reading a long article on the chemistry of the cell. Unfortunately, when we finished we happened to glance into our goldfish tank and saw there was a new inhabitant. Frisky, our pet snail, had given birth to a tiny son while our back was turned. The baby mollusk was even then hunching along the glassy depths, wiggling his feelers, shaking his whelky head. Nothing about Frisky’s appearance or conduct had given us the slightest intimation of the blessed event; and gazing at the little newcomer, we grew very humble, and threw the morning paper away. Life was as mysterious as ever."

The essay came to my mind, not because I was reading through the newspaper to check on the reports of "the learned man," and missed the birth of a creature in the process; rather, I thought of the essay when I woke up this morning after a difficult night caused by my having spent too much time going over and over things I had or hadn't done that made me disappointed in myself.

Thursday's Thoughts

On this last day of August for 2017, I'm finding it difficult to write about anything because it seems my content is unworthy in the aftermath of Hurricane Harvey, which has devastated so many lives in Texas. As I compose this posting Harvey is on his way to Louisiana to wreak havoc and his demise is occurring during the anniversary week of Hurricane Katrina, which occurred during the time period of August 23, 2005 – August 31, 2005.

Jazz, the dog pictured above was rescued during Katrina, but ultimately abandoned at an animal shelter because he is blind. Someone I know (TT) here in NYC is from New Orleans and her family was there during that hurricane. The mother (Mrs. T) of TT (who lives near to me) was supposedly working at the aforementioned shelter and she adopted Jazz. 

Ultimately Mrs. T died of cancer, unrelated to Katrina, and TT bought Jazz to NYC. She was not always able to care for him and I introduced TT to someone who has been able to help her care for Jazz.

In any event, I certainly am keeping the folks impacted by these hurricanes in my mind, and I have yet to find out how Juan V's family is faring. They live in Texas, but I'm not sure what part, and, I don't usually communicate with Juan in between the days we work together in my urban garden.

The next time I see him, which will be a week from today, I will be able to ask him if his loved ones were affected by Harvey.

Swinging is also "the pleasantest thing" ever an adult can do! (Tuesday's Truths Wk 133)

In my blog entry this Saturday I posted an image of a friend's (TT) great nieces running hand in hand with a another chid who they had met in Central Park. 

The little girl featured in the photo atop this entry is one of TT's grand nieces and she is included in the aforementioned image. In the picture accompanying this posting, she can be seeing enjoying a swing located in the west eighties area of the park.

Pigeons, and sparrows, and, starlings! OH MY!

The other week, on Wednesday, August 16th 2017, I went to a wake which was held at the Papavero Funeral Home in Queens. The solemn event was in honor of the beloved Angela Mussa, who is the woman in the undated photograph atop this entry. I never met this lovely woman, who died at age ninety-three in her daughter's (Dr. Carla Mussa DDS) arms, however, I had met her daughter on a few occasions at parties that were held by our mutual friend, TT.

When TT told me Carla's mother had died, and that she was planning on attending the wake, I offered to accompany her to support Carla. I knew Carla was an only child, and that any extended family lived in Italy, therefore, I thought attendance might be sparse.

In any event, at the wake a slide show featuring photographs from various stages of Angela Mussa's life was playing, and the picture featured here is one of the images which was included.

Grainy as the image is, if you knew Angela Mussa was born and raised in Italy, you might be able to tell that it was taken in Italy, and that she is feeding pigeons. 

World Listening Day 2019

FEMALE CARDINALS ARE  FEATURED IN MY BOOKS

Today is World Listening  Day (WLD) It is (according to National Today) an event which "is put on every year by the World Listening Project, a nonprofit organization that is 'devoted to understanding the world and its natural environment, societies and cultures through the practice of listening and field recording.' They explore acoustic ecology, a discipline that studies the relationship between humans and the natural world as mediated through sound. It falls on July 18 to honor the birthday of Raymond Murray Schafer, a Canadian composer and environmentalist who is seen as the founder of acoustic ecology. World Listening Day was established in 2010, and each year the holiday has a specific theme tied to it... 

This year’s theme is 'Listening to the Ground,' which asks us to consider the sounds of the literal ground in all its surfaces, from soil to asphalt, whether we’re losing metaphorical ground, and whether we can find new ground by listening for it..."

It is also Thursday, the day of the week which is often called Throwback Thursday (TT). Therefore in the honor of WLD and TT, I thought you would appreciate this passage (short) that was included in my 2-5-2019 post here on Blogger re Wilbur, the pig from Charolette's Web, a book by E.B. White:

"I worry about Fern. Did you hear the way she rambled on about the animals, pretending that they talked?' (Mrs. Arable the wife of Wilbur's owner speaking about her daughter to her husband.)

''Mr Arable chuckled. '''Maybe they do talk,''' he said. "I've sometimes wondered.

'''I don't think it's normal. You know perfectly well animals don't talk.''' (Mrs. Arable replied).

'''Maybe our ears aren't as sharp as Fern's," "Mr. Avery said."

I also featured this passage within a 2016 blog posting when I explained that Cam, the Northern cardinal who used to visit my (featured in the photo atop this entry, where she is in my rooftop garden) always believed that it is important for everyone of us to have sharp ears and she spent time taking care of hers!

Severe Weather Did Not Stop Session 19 (Tuesday's Truths WK 171)

MY ROOFTOP GARDEN IS THE SETTING FOR "WORDS IN OUR BEAK"

A massive storm pounded New York City Monday (April 13 2020) morning and afternoon with heavy rain and speedy gales that caused flooding and power outages across the five boroughs.

Because my crabapple tree toppled over this past Friday and no one can come to help me tie it to the railing until our lockdown is over, I secured it by placing a couple of my garden chairs around it (as seen in the image atop this entry).

#ClapBecauseWeCare Session 24 ETC

A #ClapBecauseWeCare Participant

The 24th Session of #ClapBecauseWeCare took place last night (Sunday, April 19th) and through my long camera lens I discovered that someone in a building northwest of me has put a banner (see photo at the top of this entry) on his balcony in support of the on going #ClapBecauseWeCare movement to pay homage to first responders, front liners and essential workers who are keeping everyone as safe as possible during the ramifications of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Engaging Conversations

An engaging phone conversation is something yours truly has always appreciated, as evidenced by this photo of yours truly taken in bygone (way bygone years).

In a recent FB post on my personal FB Page,  I mentioned how grateful I was that Jenny from Santa Barbara had phoned me to see how I was faring in the lockdowns brought on by the coronavirus pandemic while still dealing with the aftermath of my broken greater tuberosity.

As I stated in that entry, it was such a blessing to speak with someone who didn't set their phone down and walk away from it while still talking to me, making it so difficult for me to hear.

I am mortified at myself for wasting precious moments of life struggling to hear someone who is doing so many things while talking to me.

I guess that's the point. People who do this are talking TO me NOT talking WITH me and I've gotten so used to it I hadn't realized how it made me feel...

Until....

Until I had A REAL conversation with Jenny last week.

AND MUCH TO MY DELIGHT, IT HAPPENED AGAIN!

This past Friday, I had a real and wonderful conversation with an out of NY state a woman named MH, who I only know through Facebook and she phoned me for the same reason that Jenny had: To see how I was faring in the lockdowns brought on by the pandemic while still dealing with the aftermath of my broken greater tuberosity.

I have often phoned people who I know are alone to see how they are doing and I hope it means as much to them as it does to me.

In any event, in the aftermath of my loving with conversation MH, I felt a sense of mourning for all the time lost straining to hear those who are talking away from afar while I hang on their every word and I could not even sleep.

SO...

Rather than fight the tossing and turning, I got up, and for the first time since living in my place, I went into my garden when it was still dark and uttered my own types of prayers while birds waking from their slumber chirped away, engaging with each other in their lyric conversation.

Eventually I went back inside to work on my column submission and heard a bird singing at the top of his/her beak and was thrilled (understatement) to see an American robin had stopped by!

AMERICAN ROBINS ARE FEATURED IN VOL 3

I was not the only one to enjoy the red-breasted songster.