The Merry, Adventuress, Boot Shaking Scary,

                                                       Vow

     Watching the pairs of swallows swooping and spinning and arguing and trilling at each other, some romancing mates, some just checking out the furnishing of the birdhouses under the eaves was just a delight. It’s an amazing thing. Swallows mate for life, so do the returning geese and I thought there is some good in imitating nature but some discretion might be in order. Fruit bats are notoriously promiscuous and I wouldn’t suggest them as paragons of virtue to be imitated. But it was the pairing up for life that got me thinking about vows. And wondering. Is life more of an adventure with a vow or without one? A vow is thought to pen one in, cut out other options, restrict ones freedom and I suppose that’s true in many ways. Certainly cuts out options. If you decided to board an airplane for New York, it’s a little hard to get on the train at thirty thousand feet. Your committed.
      Well after a little pondering it came to me on just how momentous a vow is, and yes life is much more of an adventure with it. G.K. Chesterton, that portly, prolific, and magnificent writer of the 20th century says this of a vow.

      “The man who makes a vow makes an appointment with himself at some distant time or place. The danger of it is that himself should not keep the appointment.”

      And isn’t that true, If I make a vow I am promising that in some future time I will be somewhere that I said I would be. To not show up means I didn’t keep the vow. Think about that. That is where the scary comes in. That’s where life gets really big. That is where real courage is going to be found, or found to be wanting. Take the soldier, a vow of a certain number of years is taken. To fight for his country. Come hell or high water. And both do come. Till death or victory. It’s a real possibility that he will meet himself in some great battle for his countries life and his own. Because he said he would, he shows up.
      Marriage is like that too, as is really any vow. When the wife fights for her life in a difficult birth or the baby, it’s life, and you want to run because it’s to big to take it all in but you don’t, it’s the vow. When there’s no money and no prospect of any, you stay and make it happen. So isn’t he right The danger is that you won’t keep the appointment with yourself where your supposed to be. Life get’s real interesting really fast after a vow is taken. You have to show up in so many places and situations you never imagined you would have to. Some situations are so much more delightful on account of it, some are downright hard and frightening but all in all it’s a way more full and fulfilling life than having the option to bail out whenever one wishes.
     It’s an amazing thing now how tarnished that little word is now. Poor thing. We don’t have any expectations that politicians will keep theirs. We expect them to lie to us and we take it. The poor little vow takes a beating now in marriage where even there it struggles to be taken seriously. Really seriously. Till death do us part serious. Maybe it’s because we don’t trust ourselves anymore. We don’t have the trust in ourselves that we will really follow through and show up somewhere in the future where we said we would. Is it because we think we are so weak we will fall to any temptation that would take us from our commitments to that vow. So is Chesterton right when he says?


     “And in modern times this terror of one’s self, of the weakness and mutability of one’s self, has perilously increased, and is the real basis of the objection to vows of any kind." 
 
      Man have we really become so weak. Well, not I say’s me (with a bit of trembling in the knees) we’re going to have to take some polish to that little word and make it shine. Make it attractive. That’s where adventure is. That’s where the dangers are. That’s living on the edge. That’s taking a man at his word. For me it was marriage,

    “It is the nature of love to bind itself, and the institution of marriage merely paid the average man the compliment of taking him at his word.” G.K. Chesterton

      And so when I am a grandfather I had better find myself at grandmas’ side and say,   'Move over myself, I have arrived here as I said I would.'



Chase away those
Winter blues. Go
Adventuring with
Nathaniel and Laugh
www.jdoakes.com

The Best New Years Resolution

Good, Better, Best

Never let it rest,

Till your good be better

And your better best.

    Guess its time for those new years resolutions again. If I were to take an unofficial survey of the top resolutions that people make for the new year, I would say weight loss would be the number one goal. Getting into better physical shape would probably be a second, saving more and spending less would probably rank high up there also. Whatever the case may it's always a pursuit of some way in which we want to be better. So we say I want to look better or be in better health by dieting, or I want to feel better and be a better competitor, so I will exercise, or again I want to have a better standard of living so I will handle my money better.

   All these are worthy enough in themselves, they are all ways in which we want to be better. But this year my thoughts took another turn. What if I just stopped the phrase at the word better, as in: I want to be better. Yes, just simply better, Not, I want to be a better sales person, I want to look better and so on, but just simply better. What would that mean?

   Well I think that when we just stop there, without qualifying what we want to be better at then we just mean we want to be a better person. Much like when we say, "Hey, that's a good man", we don't say,  "What's he good at?" We implicitly know we are simply saying he is a good man. We know we are saying he is a man of good moral character. And that's what it seems we mean when we say I want to be better without saying what about. We just want to be a better man.

   Like Mother Teresa. If we say Mother Teresa was really good, we don't ask, "What was she good at?" We are just saying she was a really good person. Or as some say when speaking of their fathers. He was a good man. We don't ask what he was good at. We mean he was a good man, a morally good man.

   So for this year, to the extent that I might be good, I want to be better. Not better at something. Just better. And that is something we all know we can't rest at. To become more virtuous, morally better takes discipline, humility and hard work. More difficult than any material, social or financial goal to attain. So I won't let it rest, till my good be better and my better best. You too, be good, or gooder!

Happy New Year!

David

www.jdoakes.com



Barrenness

 

 

            Well. The winds came to the farm. They are gone now. But they left in their wake, Cold. Bitter cold. So now everything is bitter cold and brown. It seems this year, that after the fall colors, it has turned particularly brown. The limbs of the deciduous trees, having lost their lustrous foliage have a grayish look, but the fields lay in great brown folds. This landscape leaves one with a great sense of barrenness. A complete lack of life. There is even a large section of acreage that was applied with an herbicide that looks particularly brown and ugly. This herbicide kills not only weeds but every living plant on the soil. An intentional barrenness.

            It reminds me of the cold and frozen barren wastelands of the north, where far and in between a sprig of some kind of life can find a fertile spot to grow.

            This got me thinking about a couple of books I have on my shelf. One is an old book from my father on Animal Husbandry. I know there are ones on  Plant Husbandry.

Animal and plant husbandry. Husbandry. We don’t hear this word that often any more. But what a word. It’s so full of life. The ability to manage the affairs of an estate so that it thrives. Thriving is about living well and the man who tends to the breeding and care of livestock, as the man who tends to crops and gardening, are both trying to create fertile ground in which to sow seeds.

            This fertility involves the state of the ground itself, or the health of the animal. It requires the proper nutrients that must be fed both plants and animals, and proper fencing and shelter to either protect the plants and livestock from predators or from the ravages of weather and disease.

            If he is to have a thriving estate he must love what he does, he must have a passion for it that orders all his activities to the purpose of bringing forth life. Everything coming into his community is judged as to whether it would hinder or augment the flourishing of the fruits of his labor.

            What an invigorating concept. I am a husband. What a privilege to be the cultivator of life. Inviting into my home that what is nourishing and defending against that which might render it barren.   

               Mightn’t it be that the word husbandry is disappearing from our social landscape because husbands are? Sowing seeds that never reach the ground or sowing upon intentionally barren soil. How inimical to the very concept of husbandry!

                                              Perish the thought or life perishes.

 

A little more serious reflection for Advent until the Author of Life is Born. Christmas! I am like my little children. I can't wait.

 

Have a great day!

David Cools

www.jdoakes.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                           Thanks and Birthdays

  

            We have a number of birthdays coming up. Our kids count the days until the great day arrives. Yes, I can remember when my birthday would approach. The anticipation  was sometimes almost overwhelming. My wife says that at one of her birthdays when she was little, she got herself so worked up that when she opened a present that contained a new coat she so wanted, she actually forgot to breath, and fainted right over!

             Christmas still seems to have that same anticipated excitement for many of us, even when our own birthdays are not so quite a big thing as they used to be. And, I know, some actually remain twenty nine for fifty years or more in the hope that another birthday does not arrive.

            But this got me to thinking about birthdays; so many coming  crowding in on the farm in December. Just why do we celebrate a birthday? Why do we wish that someone has a particularly good day on their birthday? Don’t we wish well of our neighbor, especially those we love, every day? Or yet again, isn’t there a sort of loneliness, sometimes a real hurt if a loved one forgets our birthday. Or worse, for those who have no one that wishes them a happy birthday?

            And then the happiest thought came to me. It’s all about gratitude isn’t it. When we wish someone a happy birthday, are we not saying that we are really happy that they were born? That we really are thankful that they exist. That they add something special to our lives? something to are lives that no other could?

            What an amazing thing to be born. To be born. WOW! To be born into the world to make others lives better. That’s really what we’re celebrating are we not? That our lives are better now that they have been born. So really birthdays are not so much for myself, what I get out of them, but are really a chance for others to shower gratitude upon us for being born and making their lives more delightful.

            I think that is at the root of the hurt when someone’s birthday is forgotten. They don’t get any thank you's for being born? What, haven’t they  affected anyone’s life in a good way?

            This time it was the coming of birthdays that brought about a Thanksgiving  reflection.  Now, the remote birth of our nation to be sure.

            But oh so many birthdays to celebrate in my life. My parents, my wife, my children and so many friends and benefactors. Well my list would fill volumes. So this Thanksgiving is a renewal of the thought of gratitude. Just plain awesome gratitude for all of you.

 Oh. And yes , my twenty ninth birthday is  00 /  ** / ##. And don’t forget.

 

Have a very blessed Thanksgiving,

David Cools
www.jdoakes.com

 

A Fall Reflection

 

             It’s the time of year when fall has taken over for good. No more leaves hanging on tenaciously, refusing to give up to make way for the winter. The last of the geese have flown south. Everything is bare in comparison to summer and fall colors. A time of death for the annuals, who will only live vicariously through the growth of their seeds next spring. A time of partial dying for the perennials who will burst forth in their new life come springtime. Can’t help but be a somewhat reflective time of year.

 

            I, along with others had to bury a great man not to long ago. The greatest man I have known, a man I had the privilege of calling a friend, a friendship of unequal’s to be sure, but a friend indeed. Although I did not hear it this time,  it is not uncommon at these times to hear the statement from comforters who say, “Well, at least he died doing what he loved.” And I have nodded in agreement. Yes, surely that is a blessing. So much so that even I would like to be blessed in that way.

             But, I have always felt an uneasiness with that statement being quite an adequate eulogy. I think I know now what unsettled me. It’s this. What is the most important? That I do what I love? Or what it is that I love?

             Mightn’t I love the wrongs things and then have hell to pay?

              I think it is great if I can do what I love, maybe even die doing it, but I so want to make sure that I am loving the right things.

             I must make sure my loves are right. An awesome responsibility. Then, and only then, do I want to do what I love.

             My aged friend was a pilot that guided so many of us in the pursuit of getting that right. May he rest in Peace.

Have a great day!

David

www.jdoakes.com

 

Lots of Buzzing but Few Bees

  

            This summer sure felt like the Year of the Wasp. Hundreds of thousands if not millions covered the landscape. An unmistakable hum accompanied me wherever I went. If I looked at the ground, it seemed as if not less than one hornet was searching for food there. They canvassed every rise and fall, nook and cranny. Not one of my children escaped at least one angry sting this summer.

             One time when playing they tore into an old decaying log only to be chased angrily by the mad hornets. They didn’t know that figuratively stirring up a hornets nest is better than literally doing it. Each got stung multiple times as they ran in terror. I had never seen such a plague of these yellow jacketed warriors in all my life.

             I mentioned this to a gentleman who stopped by the farm awhile back. I said to him, “The bees sure have been horrible this year.” He shot back, “Not bees, hornets. Bees are honeybees. Everything else is wasp or hornets, but not bees.” I see I had hit a nerve. A tender spot for him. You see, he raised bees, honeybees that is. I hadn’t thought about it enough to know that there was a distinction but for him it was important. He was a little sore on the subject. He explained that there is a great scarcity of honeybees. It’s extremely hard to keep a beehive alive now. His own colony has been greatly diminished.

             I take it whole food crops are being abandoned in California for want of enough honeybees to pollinate the flowers. Now I have a somewhat fond attachment to honeybees myself as I had the privilege to companionate (I just taught Noah Webster a new word!) my Dad when he would work the few Hobby Hives he had on our farm. I learned a lot about bees, and got a number of stinging rebukes from the little fellows myself when my learning got to close for their comfort. You’ll have to laugh with me on that in Volume Two of The Adventures of Nathaniel B. Oakes coming out soon.

 

            I guess it’s quite a growing concern for many countries around the world, this lack of honeybees. No bees, No food.

             Wasp can’t fill their place. They are they scavengers of others fruit and meat. In fact they love to steal honey from the honeybee.

 

            There have been many theories as to why the disappearing honeybees. Cell phone tower waves, and the plethora of electromagnetic waves pulsing  from our T.V’s, smart phones, ipads, etc. that mess with their navigation have been offered as explanations.  Nectar from genetically modified food being deficient for them has also been fingered. I do not propose that I have any notion as to why they are disappearing, but it did strike me metaphorically that if I want my hive ~ my home ~ to be “a land flowing with milk and honey” I had better know what influences I am allowing into it that will make it healthy or sick.
 

            Come to think of it, maybe our homes suffer from the same problems of the honeybees. The honeybees suffer from the electromagnetic waves themselves perhaps, and our homes from the morally reprehensible content that make up those waves. Do the waves that are allowed into my home foster, the True, the Good and The Beautiful? …Or not? 

            Well just as the beekeeper must make sure whatever is nourishing or sicklifying (sometimes Webster’s Dictionary doesn’t have just the right word, I had to find this one in David’s) his hive is properly attended to, so I must make sure the husbandry of my family is up to speed.

             I must keep those pesky wasps out, and make it comfortable for bees if I am to attain the promise of “a land flowing with milk and Honey.” Well, for the honey anyway. The cow will get her turn in good time.

Don’t get stung!

Have a great day,
David Cools
www.jdoakes.com