Sometimes that Harper Faulkner Gets a Little too Real

English: A Little Baggage

English: A Little Baggage (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I am happily reading your posts and relishing every moment.  It’s 5:25 pm on a Tuesday  and I am pretty pleased with myself that this day has not gone to waste.  Yet.  I did a lovely reorganization of my living quarters that ended up being an exhausting but rewarding endeavour.  Then I click on The Measure of Success .  I read the quotation that’s been on his mind and think ‘Uh Oh’, because then he asks a question.

So the question I am asking myself this morning, and asking you, is what problems in 2012 did you bring with you into 2013 and can you, without needed outside intervention, solve those problems right now, right here, today?

Many of you, my delicious sources of entertainment, often ask questions in your posts.   I always consider them and then sometimes tuck them away for future consideration (avoidance at its best), possibly even find an easy answer for (slightly delusional here), and sometimes I face it head on (though I may not share my thoughts with you).

But it is difficult when HF asks a question.  He seems so sincere in the asking that one feels that answering is unavoidable.  I have been wrestling with my baggage for sometime now – months, and decide at times that it really is not important so there should be no struggle, but its a convenient answer and does not address the issue.  I have even bravely asked myself how I see the me I want to be, but yikes that is really scary so I don’t spend a lot of time on the thought.  But the thought keeps returning.  Again and again.

I did leave a comment for him, but then realized I could not adequately answer in a comment.

We have baggage because it must give us something, provide something – maybe excuses.  I honestly don’t know the answer to that one.

I read on a blog sometime ago, and wish I could remember whose it was, that someone they knew had been in a coma for months, and then suddenly sat up one day and said, “Nothing matters” and then died.  That has taken up residence in my palace of thoughts and while I consider all kinds of possible meanings, I have failed to arrive at any conclusions.

You know in my time as a nurse (many decades) I have been present at a lot of deaths.  Most have been wonderful experiences but some people have expressed that they wish they had done life differently or done something differently or wished they had made different decisions.  Some expressed regret that they had not done enough.  Enough is a pretty personal measurement so who can judge?

When I was younger I used to think that I would die with no regrets, that I would follow every path I could.  But that is a very naive thought because for every path we follow, every choice we make, we leave so many others undone.  Which in some strange way takes me back to the whole baggage thing for there is much that is undone, and yes until I can shed baggage it will be difficult to accomplish.

HF you certainly have stoked the fires of my soul, plainly asking what I have spent so long skirting around.  I don’t even have a whole answer as to the what or the how, but I guess I had better get on with it.  Procrastination is perhaps not as permanent a solution I hoped it was.

FITFS is back and Everyone Needs a Little Harper Faulkner in Their Life

Yup I have been way to negiligent in carrying out my Friday tributes to my favorite bloggers.  This Fridays Following in the FootSteps post is about Harper Faulkner.  Now just think for a minute about his name.  HF actually did a blurb on his name (darned if I can find it now although I have looked)  and how he got it laced with his usual dose of humor….which reminds me where did he get all that gut busting rolling on the floor with just a word or two humor?  But lets revisit the name thing.

So a wee darling baby boy is born.  His folks gaze upon that angelic face and decide he deserves a moniker bigger than he is.  I suspect they suspected that he would grow into it and by all that is holy he did.  Did he ever carry on relentlessly as a child forcing his mother to say, ‘Now Harper quit harping you are driving me crazy.’  To which I can imagine him saying, ‘I have to harp you named me and now you and the rest of the world must live with it.”

And live with it we do with great relish and delight over virtually everything that comes out of this man.  I have tried to choose a favorite for you to read (in case he is a stranger to you this moment) but damn as soon as I read something and pick myself up off the floor thinking it is the best I get all caught up in another post that I am sure is my fave.

Footsteps

Footsteps (Photo credit: courosa)

Now more than just I like to harp on Harper.  In March of this year Mike Silvia dedicated a post to good old HF.The man gets noticed. I am still not sure if Mike’s post is for or against but one thing is certain;  there is no way anyone will be mediocre about HF. By all accounts he adores his wife and family including the long gone Cousin Buster or at least he remembers him, sort of.  His worth it seems is in his fertile creatuve mind – man of mystery (Clive) and his height. Give yourselves a wonderful gift all wrapped up in wit and intelligence and pop over to say hello.  Just hello, now I wouldn’t you all to start harping about this genius.  That’s his job after all!Love you HF!!

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