If it works don't fix it.
Vagabond Journeys, number 1,900
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Hello, friends, readers and others.
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I've come to a crossroad in my journey. It is partly due to the new Google system for writing and posting entries on my blog which is totally unacceptable to me. It is slow, cumbersome and impractical. Three times instead of posting my entry it deleted it. It's spacing is awful. So this is probably the last time I will use it. I'm searching for a better one.
In the meantime I'm also considering some changes of format. I will continue to write to those on my Friends List (if you're not on it and wish to be just say so) but my writing will be looser, less structured, more stream of consciousness. I will still write about things that are important to me, but with a more relaxed approach.
Hopefully this will give me time to work on my other writing and to read more of yours.
Dana Bate
Never Give Up
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Sunday, October 7, 2012
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Pursuing Action
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
Rumi
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Hello Rose
******************
Action is the secret of life. I love being an actor. I may never get a chance to do it again, but I was an actor for 45+ years. I guess that's good enough. What is an actor? An actor is one who does something. Don't let the crossword puzzles fool you. We do not go out on the stage and "emote."
I love music. Music is not only the so-called "universal language," it is much more than that. It goes to places language can't reach. The more I hear the more I understand.
I love to read. My books are on philosophy, history, religion, science and cultural matters. People in my past have scorned and doubted me for my reading. "After all how could a simple actor with no education possibly be interested in all those esoteric subjects. He must be putting on airs to impress us."
I love to write. I've written two novels and flock of short stories. I've also written 1,899 issues of Vagabond Journeys, most of which still exist. I may be stopping that soon.
I love to draw and paint. I love to see the work of other artists. I want to be invited into an artists world as the never ending search for beauty takes place.
I pursue happiness, I pursue beauty and I pursue perfection. I may never really achieve any of those dreams, but if I don't pursue them there is no point to life. To pursue, to discover and to share, those are the great activities of life, the actions of life.
That's what I love and that's what I do.
Dana Bate - Vagabond Journeys
No. 1,899
Never Give Up
******************************
Rumi
******************
Hello Rose
******************
Action is the secret of life. I love being an actor. I may never get a chance to do it again, but I was an actor for 45+ years. I guess that's good enough. What is an actor? An actor is one who does something. Don't let the crossword puzzles fool you. We do not go out on the stage and "emote."
I love music. Music is not only the so-called "universal language," it is much more than that. It goes to places language can't reach. The more I hear the more I understand.
I love to read. My books are on philosophy, history, religion, science and cultural matters. People in my past have scorned and doubted me for my reading. "After all how could a simple actor with no education possibly be interested in all those esoteric subjects. He must be putting on airs to impress us."
I love to write. I've written two novels and flock of short stories. I've also written 1,899 issues of Vagabond Journeys, most of which still exist. I may be stopping that soon.
I love to draw and paint. I love to see the work of other artists. I want to be invited into an artists world as the never ending search for beauty takes place.
I pursue happiness, I pursue beauty and I pursue perfection. I may never really achieve any of those dreams, but if I don't pursue them there is no point to life. To pursue, to discover and to share, those are the great activities of life, the actions of life.
That's what I love and that's what I do.
Dana Bate - Vagabond Journeys
No. 1,899
Never Give Up
******************************
Friday, October 5, 2012
Walking Solo
Anything you fully do is an alone journey.
Natalie Goldberg
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Hello Sandy
*********************
I recently read an article written by a man who had found his marriage falling apart and what he did to save it. He and his wife had two grown children and a comfortable life. But it seemed to them that the romance and adventure were gone out of their relationship, they were bored with each other and felt divorce was imminent and unavoidable.
He began to think about what he wanted in a marriage. He thought about companionship, sharing of interests and ideas, respect, compassion, moral and emotional support, a sense of adventure, affection, comfort, admiration, love. He determined that he possessed many of those qualities himself and didn't need to go looking for them in someone else. He further determined that since he had those qualities he could express them. He then saw himself as a man who would make a good husband for some lucky woman.
He made a list of the qualities and abilities he thought were the best about himself and began trying to express them at work and at home with his own and soon to be divorced wife.
Unknown to him his wife was also making a list of her own. She reasoned that after the divorce she would probably be looking for another love affair and maybe a marriage. So she began to describe to herself what kind of a man she would be most attracted to, what qualities he should possess and how he would behave toward her.
They were both on their individual, alone journeys, but the wife began to realize that the man she had been describing to herself as the ideal husband was more than adequately realized in the husband she had. and because he was trying out the good qualities he found in himself on a trial basis at home, his wife began responding to them. Voila. A new love affair. No divorce.
It became a sharing of him with her and of her with him. That's a big secret. The pursuit of happiness is an alone journey. It may include other people, but happiness doesn't come from them it comes from us. And we can share it.
One never knows what the future may hold but this Vagabond Journey of mine is an alone one. There is no one else involved except an a once-in-a-while basis. But I have qualities, abilities and talents tht put a smile on my face whenever I think of them. And that's good enough for me..
Dana Bate - The Vagabond
No. 1,898
Never Give Up
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Natalie Goldberg
*********************
Hello Sandy
*********************
I recently read an article written by a man who had found his marriage falling apart and what he did to save it. He and his wife had two grown children and a comfortable life. But it seemed to them that the romance and adventure were gone out of their relationship, they were bored with each other and felt divorce was imminent and unavoidable.
He began to think about what he wanted in a marriage. He thought about companionship, sharing of interests and ideas, respect, compassion, moral and emotional support, a sense of adventure, affection, comfort, admiration, love. He determined that he possessed many of those qualities himself and didn't need to go looking for them in someone else. He further determined that since he had those qualities he could express them. He then saw himself as a man who would make a good husband for some lucky woman.
He made a list of the qualities and abilities he thought were the best about himself and began trying to express them at work and at home with his own and soon to be divorced wife.
Unknown to him his wife was also making a list of her own. She reasoned that after the divorce she would probably be looking for another love affair and maybe a marriage. So she began to describe to herself what kind of a man she would be most attracted to, what qualities he should possess and how he would behave toward her.
They were both on their individual, alone journeys, but the wife began to realize that the man she had been describing to herself as the ideal husband was more than adequately realized in the husband she had. and because he was trying out the good qualities he found in himself on a trial basis at home, his wife began responding to them. Voila. A new love affair. No divorce.
It became a sharing of him with her and of her with him. That's a big secret. The pursuit of happiness is an alone journey. It may include other people, but happiness doesn't come from them it comes from us. And we can share it.
One never knows what the future may hold but this Vagabond Journey of mine is an alone one. There is no one else involved except an a once-in-a-while basis. But I have qualities, abilities and talents tht put a smile on my face whenever I think of them. And that's good enough for me..
Dana Bate - The Vagabond
No. 1,898
Never Give Up
*************************
Thursday, October 4, 2012
I Love Music
Music is the most profound, magical form of communication there is.
Lesley Garrett
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Hello George
*****************
I love music.
On an evening I went to a concert in Lincoln Center by the New York Philharmonic. The conductor was Kurt Masur. It is customary after a performance for the conductor to ask the orchestra to stand and acknowledge the applause, but Maestro Masur asked the orchestra to stand before the concert began and they received an ovation from the audience. I turned to the person was with me, who perhaps was surprised at that and said "We love our orchestra."
I remember going to two different clubs in NY to hear the wonderful Mable Mercer sing. She brought tears to my eyes when she sang "Both Sides Now."
I sat with two friends in Greenwich Village to hear two sets from Junior Manse and his trio.
I saw Doc Watson play in the band shell at Lincoln Center. In the same place I saw a concert by Percy Sledge.
I spent another evening with a friend at some out of the way place in a corner of Manhattan to hear an Irish band playing.
I went to a big theatre on the upper West Side to hear Patti LaBell and her singers perform.
I liked going to hear my friend Charlie, the jazz pianist, play in New Hampshire.
I stopped to hear two tuba players at a sidewalk cafe in NY playing some Bach duets.
I stopped on the side walk in upper Manhattan to listen to a salsa band.
I used to play drums for a jazz pianist in Boston.
I played cello and tenor recorder for a Renaissance music group in New Hampshire.
I played bass drum for the Mount Washington Valley Town Band.
I played small roles in 2 operas.
I sang and danced in 3 musicals.
When i got back from the supermarket today I had to get the Bach Brandenburg Concertos going on the CD player before I unpacked the groceries.
I love music.
Dana Bate - The Vagabond Journweys
No. 1,897
Never Give Up
*********************
Lesley Garrett
*****************
Hello George
*****************
I love music.
On an evening I went to a concert in Lincoln Center by the New York Philharmonic. The conductor was Kurt Masur. It is customary after a performance for the conductor to ask the orchestra to stand and acknowledge the applause, but Maestro Masur asked the orchestra to stand before the concert began and they received an ovation from the audience. I turned to the person was with me, who perhaps was surprised at that and said "We love our orchestra."
I remember going to two different clubs in NY to hear the wonderful Mable Mercer sing. She brought tears to my eyes when she sang "Both Sides Now."
I sat with two friends in Greenwich Village to hear two sets from Junior Manse and his trio.
I saw Doc Watson play in the band shell at Lincoln Center. In the same place I saw a concert by Percy Sledge.
I spent another evening with a friend at some out of the way place in a corner of Manhattan to hear an Irish band playing.
I went to a big theatre on the upper West Side to hear Patti LaBell and her singers perform.
I liked going to hear my friend Charlie, the jazz pianist, play in New Hampshire.
I stopped to hear two tuba players at a sidewalk cafe in NY playing some Bach duets.
I stopped on the side walk in upper Manhattan to listen to a salsa band.
I used to play drums for a jazz pianist in Boston.
I played cello and tenor recorder for a Renaissance music group in New Hampshire.
I played bass drum for the Mount Washington Valley Town Band.
I played small roles in 2 operas.
I sang and danced in 3 musicals.
When i got back from the supermarket today I had to get the Bach Brandenburg Concertos going on the CD player before I unpacked the groceries.
I love music.
Dana Bate - The Vagabond Journweys
No. 1,897
Never Give Up
*********************
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Dig Out The Truth
Things don't turn up in the world until somebody turns them up.
President James Garfield
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Hello Frosty
**************************
James Garfield, Republican, was the 20th President of the United States. He had a long and active career in politics before narrowly defeating his Democratic rival for the Presidency. Unfortunately he was the victim of assassination shortly after taking office.
Garfield once said that the best university is a log, with you on one end and your professor on the other. These days it would probably be a park bench, but the image still holds true.
I once read a book in which a professor gave a final exam to his graduate student while the two of them were riding in an elevator. If both professor and student know the subject thoroughly the right questions will bring the answers and once the answers are known the questions become unimportant. As Susan Sontag wrote "The only interesting answers are those which destroy the questions."
I loved to read philosophy, which calls itself a search for truth. In many ways however it is the search for questions. The right questions may provide the right answers. Socrates' persistent dialogues with his friends uncovered, turned up, many profound questions. But did they provide all the answers? I would say evidently not because philosophy didn't stop with Socrates or Plato.
Philosophy continued through the Roman, Greek and Arab civilizations, the Jews and Catholics of the Middle Ages in Europe on into the Age of Enlightenment, and on into the Modern World where there are philosophers in every country pondering the same old questions and turning up new ones.
Long may they dig.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
No. 1,896
Never Give Up
President James Garfield
**************************
Hello Frosty
**************************
James Garfield, Republican, was the 20th President of the United States. He had a long and active career in politics before narrowly defeating his Democratic rival for the Presidency. Unfortunately he was the victim of assassination shortly after taking office.
Garfield once said that the best university is a log, with you on one end and your professor on the other. These days it would probably be a park bench, but the image still holds true.
I once read a book in which a professor gave a final exam to his graduate student while the two of them were riding in an elevator. If both professor and student know the subject thoroughly the right questions will bring the answers and once the answers are known the questions become unimportant. As Susan Sontag wrote "The only interesting answers are those which destroy the questions."
I loved to read philosophy, which calls itself a search for truth. In many ways however it is the search for questions. The right questions may provide the right answers. Socrates' persistent dialogues with his friends uncovered, turned up, many profound questions. But did they provide all the answers? I would say evidently not because philosophy didn't stop with Socrates or Plato.
Philosophy continued through the Roman, Greek and Arab civilizations, the Jews and Catholics of the Middle Ages in Europe on into the Age of Enlightenment, and on into the Modern World where there are philosophers in every country pondering the same old questions and turning up new ones.
Long may they dig.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
No. 1,896
Never Give Up
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
No Going Back
All that is human must retrograde if it does not advance.
Edward Gibbon
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Hello Jon
*****************
Hicks Park, Rye, New York. We lived there only for a year but it was one of the nicer places we moved through. It was a 2 story house. We lived on the first floor. The house was heated by a coal burning furnace. Once a week a truck would back up to the side door, put down a metal shoot and a load of coal would come rumbling down into the bin. When I got home from school I shoveled coal into the furnace so the house would be warm for my mother when she returned from work. I was 10 years old.
Out ftont there was a forest, big enough to get lost in. The neighbors on one side had a large back yard, so their house was not near us. There was another house behind us, over a fence. I nice lady lived there. I used to rake her leaves and clear up her yard. I had a bicycle.
On the other side was a mini forest with a dirt road that went around it. At the back was a garage no one used. It was in there that I made a model airplane. Down a sharp hill was Blind Brook.
It's a shame we couldn't afford to stay in that house. The house, the forest, the bicycle and the airplane all disappeared from my life somehow.
Decades later a friend in New York offered to drive me around to see some of the many places I had lived. I was so looking forward to Hicks Park again.
What a shock.!!
The forest was gone, replaced by a cheap housing development. The neighbor's large back yard now had a couple of houses. The mini forest was now a mess of two and three story houses much too close to each other. Even the place where the coal truck used to come had an ugly three story house, right next to the original house. The houses were all big and ugly, and none of them were occupied.
I learned a big lesson from that moment. Life the way you think it used to be can never be that way again. I wanted to get away from there as fast as I could.
You and I, our families, our neighborhoods, our country, the world has out grown the past. To try to return to the past is impassible. Forward into the known and the unknown is the only direction we can take if we expect to survive.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
No. 1895
Never Give Up
***************************
Edward Gibbon
*****************
Hello Jon
*****************
Hicks Park, Rye, New York. We lived there only for a year but it was one of the nicer places we moved through. It was a 2 story house. We lived on the first floor. The house was heated by a coal burning furnace. Once a week a truck would back up to the side door, put down a metal shoot and a load of coal would come rumbling down into the bin. When I got home from school I shoveled coal into the furnace so the house would be warm for my mother when she returned from work. I was 10 years old.
Out ftont there was a forest, big enough to get lost in. The neighbors on one side had a large back yard, so their house was not near us. There was another house behind us, over a fence. I nice lady lived there. I used to rake her leaves and clear up her yard. I had a bicycle.
On the other side was a mini forest with a dirt road that went around it. At the back was a garage no one used. It was in there that I made a model airplane. Down a sharp hill was Blind Brook.
It's a shame we couldn't afford to stay in that house. The house, the forest, the bicycle and the airplane all disappeared from my life somehow.
Decades later a friend in New York offered to drive me around to see some of the many places I had lived. I was so looking forward to Hicks Park again.
What a shock.!!
The forest was gone, replaced by a cheap housing development. The neighbor's large back yard now had a couple of houses. The mini forest was now a mess of two and three story houses much too close to each other. Even the place where the coal truck used to come had an ugly three story house, right next to the original house. The houses were all big and ugly, and none of them were occupied.
I learned a big lesson from that moment. Life the way you think it used to be can never be that way again. I wanted to get away from there as fast as I could.
You and I, our families, our neighborhoods, our country, the world has out grown the past. To try to return to the past is impassible. Forward into the known and the unknown is the only direction we can take if we expect to survive.
DB - Vagabond Journeys
No. 1895
Never Give Up
***************************
Monday, October 1, 2012
The Strings
There comes a point when a dream becomes reality and reality becomes a dream.
Frances Farmer
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Hello Jen
*****************
I look at what needs to be done and I feel helpless. But I push on. Am I just cutting stones or am I building a temple? Am I designing spoons or spaceships? And what's the difference?
For various reasons I had to cut back on my life as an actor, so I started drawing. I took lessons at the Art Students League in New York. Eventually I started painting. All I was doing was keeping the creative strings tight and properly tuned.
I knew people who had had years of formal training as artists and here I was a rank beginner. I was intimidated by viewing the work done by the artists I knew. I didn't take my paintings seriously. Until one day, years ago, someone bought one of them. He asked me how much I wanted for it, gave me the money and took the painting. At first I was sad. I liked that picture and would have enjoyed looking at it for a long time. But then I thought that if I enjoyed it and he enjoyed it then others might also and it would be selfish of me to hoard it. That changed my perspective about my art work. My dream became a reality. Since then I've sold several others.
I wrote to a friend today that I wish I could get more training. There are so many things I would like to know: water color, sculpture, lithography and other graphic arts. That's my dream now. Will it ever become a reality?
I also began to write. Other than almost two thousand issues of Vagabond Journeys I have 2 novels and a flock of short stories. Nothing is published but some news items for a local paper. Even so it is much easier to think of myself as a writer than a painter. But maybe that's a reality that is really becoming just a dream. Maybe as I sit at the keyboard I'm just cutting stones, making spoons.
The most sturdy but scary perception I have is that of imagination, intelligence, natural law and the cosmic creative process all of which actually do the work. I'm just the harp. Something grander than I am plucks the strings. That's the reality.
DB - The Vagabond
Never give up.
*****************
Frances Farmer
****************
Hello Jen
*****************
I look at what needs to be done and I feel helpless. But I push on. Am I just cutting stones or am I building a temple? Am I designing spoons or spaceships? And what's the difference?
For various reasons I had to cut back on my life as an actor, so I started drawing. I took lessons at the Art Students League in New York. Eventually I started painting. All I was doing was keeping the creative strings tight and properly tuned.
I knew people who had had years of formal training as artists and here I was a rank beginner. I was intimidated by viewing the work done by the artists I knew. I didn't take my paintings seriously. Until one day, years ago, someone bought one of them. He asked me how much I wanted for it, gave me the money and took the painting. At first I was sad. I liked that picture and would have enjoyed looking at it for a long time. But then I thought that if I enjoyed it and he enjoyed it then others might also and it would be selfish of me to hoard it. That changed my perspective about my art work. My dream became a reality. Since then I've sold several others.
I wrote to a friend today that I wish I could get more training. There are so many things I would like to know: water color, sculpture, lithography and other graphic arts. That's my dream now. Will it ever become a reality?
I also began to write. Other than almost two thousand issues of Vagabond Journeys I have 2 novels and a flock of short stories. Nothing is published but some news items for a local paper. Even so it is much easier to think of myself as a writer than a painter. But maybe that's a reality that is really becoming just a dream. Maybe as I sit at the keyboard I'm just cutting stones, making spoons.
The most sturdy but scary perception I have is that of imagination, intelligence, natural law and the cosmic creative process all of which actually do the work. I'm just the harp. Something grander than I am plucks the strings. That's the reality.
DB - The Vagabond
Never give up.
*****************
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