The Seven-Year So-Far

December 3, 2019
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Before December 3rd, 2012, I had set a monthly reminder to start a blog. Month after month the reminder would pop up and I just wouldn’t have the oomph to get on to a blog-posting site. But on 3/12/2012 I oomphed–and it was ridiculously easy to set up my blog. I wrote and posted “The Great Gettin’ Up Morning” while it was still morning, and the rest is history–recorded history. One thousand, four hundred and sixty-one little explorations. Seems like a lot, but I feel like I only scratched the surface. On the other hand, it will give a viewer–you, for instance–a good idea of who I am and what I stand for, and against. Love and loss is in plenitude here, as are the pinnacles and chasms of the creative process. And suffusing the entire seven-year journey is a celebration of Friendship. I have many treasured friends. I met some of them as a direct result of this blog–Jen, Michel, Tiffany, Marta, Shawn, Jamie, G. E., Alf, “kwiksand”, Chantal–perhaps YOU reading this now–thank you all. I toast you with my Eggnog.

Henceforth

December 1, 2019
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Friends, this is done in haste. I hope to edit at leisure.

It is the First of December. I’m hoping to end some bad habits and form good ones by the end of the year. Accordingly, because I had the opportunity, I began a walk pre-dawn that ended with the Sun high in the sky. It is a fine way to start a day.

 

Mercy and Breakfast

November 24, 2019
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Here are two vessels that I made, some coffee in the smaller one, and “The Original Decadent Salted Caramel Bar,” which is only 210 calories per bar, but 1,680 calories if you have all 8, which I did, in a mere 9-1/2 hours, mostly last evening, with the last one left over for breakfast.

 

“Lord have mercy on me, a sinner.” That is what is inscribed on the larger vessel. I am practicing ersatz stonecutting for the sake of the urn I will make that will house my late brother Brian’s ashes. When I read from the New Testament at the urging of a college roommate of mine more than 40 years ago, the story of the bigshot who thought he was praying but instead was bragging about his accomplishments, compared to a truly humbled and penitent soul TRULY praying by saying these simple words. struck me as the heart of the matter. I have said this prayer dozens of times, fingers interlaced, in the last 40 years, though to me it’s a “message in a bottle” prayer that may not be heard. And “Lord” seems to be shorthand for “Whatever makes and sustains us.”

But to my brother Brian the  words needed no analogizing. He was a Christian through and through, including humility. The words fit him.

Most likely, though, other words will be on Brian’s urn– something like WITHIN◇THIS◇VESSEL◇ARE◇THE◇EARTHLY◇REMAINS◇OF◇BRIAN◇CLEMENS◇BOWERS◇1957-2018◇BELOVÉD SON◇BROTHER◇UNCLE◇HUSBAND◇NEPHEW◇COUSIN◇OUTLAW◇REQUIESCAT◇IN◇PACE. As I imagine it, these words will wrap around and around the vessel, which will be placed on a rotatable platform. Of course I will ask my family to review and evaluate a prototype before I proceed.

Sincere and humble thanks to whatever creates and sustains us.

 

Terry Carter Irwin, my Forever Friend

November 18, 2019
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In December of 1967 Terry Carter, my classmate, was at the school dance wearing a shimmery silver dress. We danced either once, twice, or three times–I have memory issues now. The important thing is, we danced.

J.R.R. Tolkien, author of THE LORD OF THE RINGS, also wrote “Smith of Wootten Major.” His protagonist, a blacksmith with an enchanted star on his brow, made a journey through the land of Faery. Along the way he met a delightful, young-yet-ageless woman who ended up dancing with him. Before they parted company she told him to convey a message to Alf the Prentice: “The time has come. Let him choose.” Only after Smith, also known as Starbrow, completed his journey and delivered the message did he learn with whom he had danced.

So it is with Terry, so similar to the Faery girl. She hides her light under a bushel. She would rather I didn’t sing her praises. Yet I must.

Terry Irwin

TERRIFIC as a pre-dawn’s Hi
ENGAGING as a 3rd-act Sigh–her
Righteous WISDOM’s clear–and how
Refreshing as is Maui–Wow–I
Y•o•d•e•l as she earns Renown

Blast from the Past: 22 September 2007

November 11, 2019
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It’s been a long time since I posted, and I have many things that I’m working on, but nothing current suitable to publish. But going over REALLY OLD files, back in 2007 when I was doing Journal Pages faithfully every day, with not much regard for calligraphy but some for inked color, and I ran across this fable about a meet-cute with a short guitar-playing guy and a really tall girl…

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I remember that I was using the finest-point pen I could find–might have been a Rollerball or a Razor–and a set of Faber-Castell ink markers for the color. I also had a thing about presenting the date a different way every day, sort of like Will Eisner did with his SPIRIT logos.

And I remember yearning.

Operations

Of music, sacred smiles, and nagging doubt:
Pitch-perfect was the Evening. And the Girl:
Enchanting, very tall, she was about
Revealing hidden Power. Glide, and Whirl,
Allay the fear a young heart has, of Breaking,
Tend to her own as well. She Bends. They Kiss.
In no time her in height he’s overtaking,
Obverted through the Atmosphere, he’ll miss
Near-Parity. He slides back down to Smaller,
Since their sould need no Height to make them Taller.

circumstance salad

November 1, 2019
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Hard to say anything about this one that would not be misleading. It is neither random nor sensible. All guesses as to how the elements came together to interact in this frame will be neither true nor false. If you remove half the colors in a rainbow you still have millions of colors.

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INKtober 2019: Catch

October 31, 2019
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Congratulations to the Washington Nationals, who fulfilled their “Finish the Fight” byword with triumph.

Trajectory Arrestment

Trammelled by parabola/Radared by a ballplayer/A red-stitched rising star/Jacked into the campusphere/Engages the focus of the fans/Caught in unresolved moment/Then triggered to mayhem/On the wings of leaping flexure/Right fielder foiling batsman/Yanking the ball from sky to mitt

INKtober 2019: Injury

October 29, 2019
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“Hit me like a punch in the stomach.” A punch in the stomach can rupture a spleen, as Stephen King demonstrated in one of his novels.

The wrong words destroy confidence, break friendships, and bruise our psyches. Sometimes words are used with vicious intent, but not always. Sometimes it’s negligence. All too often, there’s a misunderstanding.

Let us remember, Friends: words can be weaponized. We have more destructive potential than we realize. So keep your powder dry, but keep your safeties on. Life is about nurturing, connecting, and joy, and not injuring.