Posts Tagged With: accepting mortality

Day 979: Last Works

Last night, one of the last things I heard was somebody who works at WCRB-FM announcing that the radio station was featuring last works by great composers, all weekend.

I wrote that down

as I was working on my latest (but not last, I hope) Games Magazine, because I wanted that idea to last.

Last night, I also heard a beautiful work by Beethoven.

The String Quarter no. 14 in C# minor, Op. 131, one of the last works by Beethoven, is, obviously, going to last. According to Wikipedia, Beethoven dedicated that work to a baron who accepted his nephew into the army after a “failed suicide attempt.”

In my work last week as a psychotherapist, I heard several people talk about “failed” suicide attempts. I hope my work encouraging that kind of “failure” is going to last, too.

Here’s the latest (but not last)  work of my cat, Oscar:


See  the “////////////////////////////” in that photo? That works to show you that Oscar …


… likes to work on the keyboard while I’m working on my blog posts (which I hope will last, too).

Speaking of cats who work on me, last night — while we were working our way through our neighborhood on a walk —  my boyfriend Michael and I saw this cat …


  

… who we last saw many, many months ago. Before last night, I’d been working on a fear that cat had breathed its last. Obviously, that cat is working fine.

So what else would I like to work in here about “Last Works,” before I work on the last word of this post?
Tomorrow is Labor Day in the USA, and my son might work more on his idea — perhaps working it into a lasting stand-up comedy routine — that the name “Labor Day” is lastingly ironic, because it is a day when people who labor do NOT labor. Both Aaron and I, when we were working on lasting through a long walk yesterday, worked on a discussion of whether “Ironic” by Alanis Morissette

should be rewritten to include something that is actually ironic, like “Labor Day.”

“Ironic” is going to last, don’t you think?

This is the last thing I’m going to work into this “Last Works” post: Today, I’m going to a funeral of the mother of some friends I last saw many decades ago. I have many lasting memories of this mother and her daughters. After I publish this “Last Works” post, my lasting friend Deb and I will be working our way to our hometown on the North Shore of Boston, to pay our last respects.

Lasting thanks to that mother and her daughters, to my son Aaron, to Michael, to Deb,  to Beethoven, to radio station WCRB-FM, to Leonard Bernstein, to Alanis Morissette, to lasting friendships, to people who “fail” at suicide, to Oscar, to our neighborhood cats, to all things that last as best they can and — last but not least — to you, for lasting here, today.

Categories: personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , | 36 Comments

Day 779: Leave behinds

Before I leave behind any readers who haven’t heard the term “leave behind” before, here’s a definition that my Google search for “leave behind” left behind:

  1. (verb) to forget or neglect to bring or take.
  2. to cause to remain as a result or sign of something ⇒ the storm left a trail of damage behind.
  3. to pass ⇒ once the wind came up, we soon left the land behind us.

 Here’s something I want to leave behind for you now, in this post. The examples in that definition, from collinsdictionary.com, remind me of the brutally snowy and cold weather I left behind in New England this week.

What that  above definition left behind, though, is the noun version of “leave behind,” which I definitely want to include as a leave behind in this post. Since every other definition I found online left that behind too, here’s my own definition, as a leave behind for you all:

leave behind

(noun) a memory or an actual thing that remains after an encounter, especially one that can be transformed into something helpful in the future.

I don’t know if that’s the best definition to leave behind in this post, but it will have to do as a good-enough leave behind, for now.

Believe me, I won’t mind if you come up with a better definition in a comment, thus leaving my definition behind yours, because that will make this post a better leave behind for everybody.

Before I leave behind anything else, I shall leave behind some of the reasons I thought of the title “Leave Behind” this morning:

  • Yesterday, my son and I had to leave behind our hope to see our friend Ron Lynch appear on the Conan show when Ron got back to us with the message that the Conan show couldn’t leave behind two tickets for us.
  • We then left behind Los Angeles and our wonderful hosts Krystal and Jim to drive up the coast towards San Francisco.
  • So we could leave behind too much consecutive driving on our way to visit my college roommate Marcia (whose wonderful leave behinds are included in previous posts I’ve left behind here, here, and here), Marcia suggested as a stop-over San Luis Obispo, the city that has, apparently, left behind unhappiness:

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  • Last night, as we were about to leave behind our San Luis Obispo hotel room — for which  hotels.com left behind an excellent recommendation — for a walk and some dinner, we discovered we had left behind coatless weather in Los Angeles.
  •  I discovered I had left behind my most excellent raincoat at Krystal and Jim’s lovely home.
  • Krystal, who leaves most people behind in her thoughtfulness and generosity, offered to mail my left-behind raincoat to my friend Lawry, who — like Marcia — left behind the northeastern USA to move to a warmer and more hospitable climate (like every other person who hasn’t somehow left behind their senses*).

Here are some photographic leave behinds, from our travels yesterday through Santa Barbara , a local candy store, a San Luis Obispo ice cream shop, and other locations:

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IMG_5654 IMG_5658 IMG_5661 IMG_5660 IMG_5659 IMG_5662 (1) IMG_5663

IMG_5668 IMG_5669

I didn’t leave behind any photos, above, of the beautiful scenery we drove through yesterday, because I didn’t take any. If you haven’t left behind your home at any point in your life to visit the coast of California, I suggest you leave behind any obstacles getting in the way of your doing that, as soon as possible.

I would be leaving behind my usual posting routine if I didn’t invite you to leave behind any comments you choose, here.

One more leave behind,  for this post, before we leave behind San Luis Obispo for a visit to the Hearst Castle:

At my age of 62, I sometimes think about what legacies I’m leaving behind me in this world. I hope those include kindness, humor, some leave-behinds about ways to leave behind fear and unhelpful thoughts, and other positive gifts for the people I’ve encountered.  No matter what, though,  here’s my best leave behind:

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My son Aaron.

Many thanks to Krystal, Marcia, Lawry, everybody and everything that contributed to my creating and leaving behind this post,  all those we’ve temporarily left behind in New England, and you (of course!) for leaving behind other things to visit here today.


* While this might seem unduly judgmental of all those who haven’t left behind New England to move someplace warmer, those are the current views and feelings of the writer leaving behind this footnote.

Categories: personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 40 Comments

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