Over Every Homeplate

2024.07.28

Good morning that wonderful way.

Hello, again.

This is the way we press on.

We just keep going undisturbed by what might disturb.

We keep going.

Squirrels and dogs and the way they chase.

Abe keeps them out of the yard, he's got the birds in on it too.

Robins and grackles and sparrows, oh my.

If you've never seen a robin chase away a squirrel you've missed out.

It was a bonding moment for Abe and his new feathered friends.

Heavy dreams last night.

Rock solid sleep.

We call it the sleep of the dead, or sleeping like a baby, or sleeping like a dog.

Lots of similes for sleep.

Similes for sleep is a good title.

I've been posting these entries online for some time now.

A little over a month, put down some backlogs, too.

I'll keep them up and hope you find some relief, or something positive to give to your day.

You're not alone in hoping life is worth more than a day-to-day grueling slog of rote mechanical get done what was done yesterday.

Monotony, monotony, monotony where's the rub?
Somewhere over there, bub.

Somethings are worth consistency, somethings ought to be made new.

Everything old, though, can be done in new ways.

At least some aspect, whether it's a thought, or a step left where a right one used to be.

Everything can be made better in some small way, all the time.

We can do better, so we do better.

These thoughts of you.

I don't wish them gone, but I don't want you waiting.

Some of these entries, some parts of them, won't find any other eyes but mine. Perhaps yours sometime from now.

Some mornings there's not much ... no that's not true.

There's always much to share.

At times, though, there's much in the way of the much to share.

Perhaps, then, what's in the way is what's to share.

Grog, slog, in a bog of haze for today's tasks at hand.

Words and doing words again, dreams and doing dreams.

The blog takes shape.

There's decades worth of writing.

Some of it will be posted.

Some of it will find you.

I wrote it all for you.

My flashy inside people.

Wrote it to let you know you're not alone.

That the voice, your voice within, is worth something.

That, with the world connected through words only, many moments of words only is a wonderful kind of life.

There's touch of course.

And it matters.

"Get outside and do something."

The old ways badger.

Doing words, sharing words, sharing yourself through words, is doing something.

Something wonderful, actually.

Don't be ashamed to sit in front of your computer all day and work and write to one another.

It is a valid way to live.

Being out with the fresh air, helps all things.

But it's not a requirement, and so it's not a place for guilt to be assuaged.

Working outside though is nice.

You ought to try it sometime to find out.

We make our worlds with our words.

We don't go outside just to go outside.

We go because our surroundings effect the quality of our words.

Working with words, communicating, engagement in shared activities involving pixels and pages as a physical exercise.

Writing is a physical activity.

Variety of your workout is the only reason to stop.

Not guilt.

You are doing something.

Athletes neglect working with spoken and written language and focus heavily on kinesthetics.

There must be balance to live a fulfilling life.

What traditional physical actors do is important: too.

But words move the world now.

Computer code is language.

Hello World!
Period.

Words are probably the best thing about us.

How we share them.

How we share ourselves is the legacy we leave.

Even on a basketball court the language we use defines our level of play.

The players that play like poetry, write a poem of words to tell their bodies each pass and play from the paint.

Every pitcher knows what every catcher is thinking from words shared in dugouts and on benches and in bullpens.

Whether on Xbox, PlayStation or at Fenway Park, a string of words gets the ball over every Homeplate.

S.J. Wynn
+he Ghos+