WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
Pre-Spring Cleaning at Wadsworth’s Shop
byVanderleunonMarch 16, 2021
“How can we recognize a little sooner when something from our past might really help us again someday or if it’s already done its work? If it’s already outlived its usefulness and just needs to be forgotten? Worse yet how do we recognize when it’s holding us back or wasting our energy or maybe even — you know — displacing better things; thwarting our happiness?”
“Another thing that I always procrastinate is making a big change in my work environment or routine — even though I know it’s going to be a good thing. It’s crazy but my reaction — once I finally carve out the time to do it — is always the same, ‘Why oh why didn’t I do this years ago?’ That thought is usually accompanied by a curious low-level regret.
I wonder if I’m ever really going to learn this lesson.”
You have to keep downsizing. My mother kept downsizing until her 104th year. Never caught up with it.
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
The steel mill sky is alive.
The fire breaks white and zigzag
shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
Man is a long time coming.
Man will yet win.
Brother may yet line up with brother:
This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
There are men who can’t be bought.
The fireborn are at home in fire.
The stars make no noise,
You can’t hinder the wind from blowing.
Time is a great teacher.
Who can live without hope?
In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
“Where to? what next?”