The meadow beyond

It is at times thorny to know where to go, whether straight ahead, up or down, left or right, in or out or around a winding curve beyond which there is no end in sight. Do we engage at our risk and peril? Or were it better to remain rooted to the spot. But at what place?  The one whence we came or the one whither we go? There’s no map to tell us the direction or distance of our travel or when to stop or start. Like the precipitous and shifting skies above us, there are no time limits or boundaries or mandates. Certainly there are cautionary urges and impulses; signals on the horizon; and guide books, everything from apocalyptic and biblical to modern and green, spiritual and psychological plus the gauzy dreams in our head.

Somehow we get there notwithstanding the sometimes obscure, sometimes manifest, sometimes daunting, sometimes enthralling debates. Somehow we get to where we’re going, the place where we sit or stand or lay our head upon a downy pillow, our rattled frame beneath a feathery comforter in the dark with our eyes closed, our head plump with a collage of images and tomorrow’s yet unsettled, indescribable and inexpressible plans.

The indisputable fact is we’re where we are now. Whether we choose or not to participate and dilate, to absorb and insinuate, to examine and scrutinize, to contribute or resile, to interpret and digest, to improve or remove, to expand or close or whatever we may feel obliged or not to do is the subtle stream just below the surface, the vessel of our spirit, the liquor of our ambition, the broth in our belly. The canvas is before our eyes. We are the artist looking at the meadow beyond.

You may ask, Do we have control? Do we make our bed and sleep in it?  Or is it all serendipitous or a fluke? And whom do we thank or do we remain forever thankless? Is it all fortuitous? Can we change our fortune? Can we with freedom from pain or restraint gaze idly upon the horizon burdened by clouds? Or must we seek a sunnier disposition and await another day?

If you have to ask where you are, you’re not there yet.  You’ll know when you get there.  Being at home always feels like home. Our intelligence, as vast as it may be, is as chemical as love.  There is nothing complicated about life. What you see is your vision and yours alone.

As Time Goes By
Immortally sung by Dooley Wilson
Songwriter: Herman Hupfeld

You must remember this
A kiss is just a kiss
A sigh is just a sigh
The fundamental things apply
As time goes by

And when two lovers woo
They still say “I love you”
On that you can rely
No matter what the future brings
As time goes by

Moonlight and love songs
Never out of date
Hearts full of passion
Jealousy and hate
Woman needs man, and man must have his mate
That no one can deny

It’s still the same old story
A fight for love and glory
A case of do or die
The world will always welcome lovers
As time goes by

“As Time Goes By” is a jazz song written by Herman Hupfeld in 1931. It became famous when it featured in the 1942 film Casablanca, performed by Dooley Wilson as Sam.

The song was voted No. 2 on the AFI’s 100 Years…100 Songs special, commemorating the best songs in film (surpassed only by “Over the Rainbow” by Judy Garland).

“This day and age we’re living in/Gives cause for apprehension[…] Yet we get a trifle weary/With Mr Einstein’s theory/So we must get down to earth at times […] The simple facts of life […] cannot be removed”