The Impossibility of Always Knowing

"Always know all that you say, but don't always say all that you know."

I don't know the author of this quotation, but I'm grateful to the friend who shared it with me. For those of us who tend to talk or write to find out what we're thinking, this is a difficult ideal, but it beats trying to un-ring a bell.

Some similar thoughts?

• Discretion is fine but it has so many limitations. ;)
• "Great writing. Hell I'd settle for good writing, but to warm up mediocre is OK."
• "I don't care what you write. Just get those fingers moving. Pianists play scales don't they." (But not on their recordings, not at their concerts.)

Which reminds me of this column from my long-time friend Jerry Johnston.

So how about this great spring weather? I had the pleasure of an outdoor lunch today. There's nothing quite like good food, spring weather and a quiet conversation.

Three Quotes on Communication

Nothing is so simple that it cannot be misunderstood.
-Jr. Teague

Good, the more communicated, more abundant grows.
-John Milton

Communication is not only the essence of being human, but also a vital property of life.
-John A. Piece

Winter Memories as Spring Approaches

Finally climbed up on the roof and got down my Christmas lights. I took Monday off and thoroughly enjoyed being out in the sunshine and getting one-on-one with my gables again.

Of course part of what makes this Spring-like weather so alluring is the memory of winter. Here's what I wrote in my hard-copy journal a few months ago. (November 2, 2003)

There is wonder all about us. I'm grateful for this little planet of ours, for continents and oceans, seasons and sunshine, darkness and light. For this time of year, for fall leaves and this first snow. We've needed a storm.

What a wonder it is to see the sky darken, the wind blow, and something we've needed so much start to descend. Just a few flakes at first. Almost as if the sky had forgotten how to snow. Then bigger flakes falling faster and beginning to accumulate. Then almost blizzard-like. A frenzy of snow no longer falling, but blowing in from all directions. No longer orderly, but like a child scribbling with white crayon turning the black construction paper gray, then lighter gray, the almost entirely white.

And how this shroud changes everything. Colors are muted, then masked. Sharp edges soften. Drivers who may not want to acknowledge a change are gently--and sometimes not so gently--reminded that the laws of physics still apply. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed.