Morning Open Thread is a daily, copyrighted post from a host of editors and guest writers. We support our community, invite and share ideas, and encourage thoughtful, respectful dialogue in an open forum.
I’ve come to think of this post as one where you come for the music and stay for the conversation—so feel free to drop a note. The diarist gets to sleep in if she so desires and can show up long after the post is published. So you know, it's a feature, not a bug.
Join us, please.
I Come to Praise
The waning moon is beautiful among the stars this morning. But if this clarity and overwhelming expanse of eternity is meat to remind me that men are sometimes masters of their own fate, I’m here to admit this isn’t one of those times. I sit here on my patio, bestride a narrow world, and ponder those aspects of what makes us human.
That, and I’m in a mood.
I’ll admit that up front so you don’t spend too much energy trying to figure out what the hell I’m writing about. This morning I have Hoagy Carmichale’s “Heart And Soul” playing on a loop. Over and over. And then over again. Though the impetus for this morning's musing, this isn't just about a stolen kiss or love or even losing my soul to a woman almost too long ago to remember. It's about what one wants and the underlying reasons justifying (or at least supporting) that want.
Marc Antony, in Act 3 of Julius Caesar, laments the passing of his “friend” and begs us—at the end of that famous “lend me your ears” speech—to bear with him: “My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, and I must pause til it comes back to me.” We can’t help but feel the power of those words, the plea for understanding, sympathy, and support. We can surely understand why one would move from the righteous, but murderous Brutus to the linguistically-seductive, heartbroken Antony.
This morning I understand that the fault lies, truly, not in our stars, but in ourselves—that the evil men do lives after them and the good oft interred with their bones. We are all flawed and all subject to seductive tales and stolen kisses. What matters in this moment, though, is that my wants are aligned with what is good and my desire synchronized with this ever-expanding universe. I may not be the master of my own fate. I may not be the most honorable of men. I may not be able, even, to avoid pridefully fucking up what is written in the stars.
But no matter where fault lies, I find my wanting not wanting for good. A stolen kiss—I assure you—is worth the forfeit of one’s soul, a purloined glance worth the imprisonment of a heart. Even knowing the ultimate outcome, there are times we are forced to put aside thoughts of success and act out of greater love: when judgment, fled to brutish beasts, must be buried alongside pride.
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Post Script: This prose poem done, I have several crews to check in with this morning at work and then I’m heading to Grand Isle (off the coast of Louisiana) for my annual chaperoning gig for a bunch of kids that finished up with school last week. Funny how this has evolved—years ago the job was to make sure they were fed, had sufficient sunscreen, and didn't drown. As they’ve gotten older, it was to make sure they were fed, didn’t burn “too badly,” and didn’t drown each other. Now it’s gotten to the stage where I make sure there’s food somewhere around, that they’re up and at the beach some point during the day, and that they and the “girls they know staying at that camp down the beach,” stay out the water after dark.
Enjoy your Friday and have a wonderful weekend.
Friday’s Lagniappe
Because no matter what you might think, the South isn’t as insular, isolated, or ignorant as you imagine: this week, here’s an essay in The Bitter Southerner by CD Davidson-Hiers (with photographs by Mark Wallheiser), “Drag Queens in the Backyard Playing Bingo.”
“People see college towns around the South as ‘progressive.’ Still, in places like Tallahassee, Florida, establishments that openly welcome the LGBTQ community remain hard to find. But here in Florida’s capital city, one local bar thinks a part of the answer might be kids and families playing bingo in the backyard, with drag queens calling the numbers.”
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Grab your coffee or tea and join us, please.
What's on your mind this morning?