This Side of Fifty Anniversary Post

I started this writing project, This Side of Fifty, in February of 2002.  It began as a monthly e-letter that I sent to a list of family and friends.  In 2009, I moved it all over to this blog and began posting more often than just once a month.  This, is the second post of the Volume XXIII.  I have never published a book, but I have enough posts over the years for a book or three.  As noted in previous Anniversary e-letters and blog posts, this has been a most worthwhile and rewarding project.  I am also both amazed and very proud that I have stuck with it for so long. 

There were only 40 posts in Volume XXII.  That is the least number of posts since 2017.  What was the cause of that drop in productivity?  I wrote about it a twice last year in One A Day and A Lethargic July.  The lower productivity was due to a lethargy which I can attribute to my two knee replacements, the left one in January and then the right one in June.  The surgeries, which could be viewed as ‘routine,’ took some of the veritable wind out of my blogging sails.  I feel good and feel somewhat back to normal.  But at my age, any loss in concentration is a wee bit worrisome.

While my blogging numbers sagged, I wrote 55 poems during the same time period.  That was the most poems I have ever written in a year.  Oddly, it took me about the same amount of time to write a poem as it takes to write a blog post.  I am not sure I have a great explanation for this beyond it being the impact of two anesthesias somehow slowed down the prose part of the brain whilst unshackling the poetic lobe.  I do lament for not having more posts here, but I am pretty happy with my poetry blog:  Mark Gavoor’s Poetry. 

While I have no issue with putting my thoughts out there for all to read on this blog.  I am much shier about doing the same with my poetry.  Before, creating This Side of Fifty, I worried a bit about ‘putting myself out there.’  It was an unnecessary worry and I got over quickly.  When it comes to poetry, my lack of confidence has lasted decades longer.  Poetry is less popular and basically the domain of English professors around which I feel like a poetic poser.  Correction, I used to feel that way.  No more. 

Part of writing is to find one’s voice and then embrace and refine it.  I believe, I have a poetic voice and have refined it over the years.  I comfortable with it.  Heck, I am now happy, proud of it, and, indeed, embracing it.  I care about how others react to it.  But that is their right.  If I can learn from their criticism and refine it that is good.  Otherwise, in my current state of mind, it doesn’t matter to me.

There is a saying that ‘when one door closes, another opens.’  In this case it seems to be more like, ‘when one door closes a wee bit, another is blown wide open.’  In this case, it is a very good thing.

it's life you know

you texted a very 
simple thought
"it's life you know"
i started to type
and backspace and 
type and delete
again and once more

then...
i just stopped
just sat there
with nothing
nothing to say
nothing clever
no insight
no whimsy
certainly nothing
deep or profound
nothing at all
to convey

i just sat there
the sound of
one mind
doing nothing
idling, stalled
on the bay of
eerie tranquility

"it's life you know"
i guess i do
maybe the best 
poem i ever read