Keep Your Soul on the Ball

I learned an important lesson from Newman last night. I should say relearned it, because I knew it before, and before that, and before that, but keep forgetting its essence.

I was on the sofa trying to make my way through the wasteland that is t.v. Did you know there is a show about people who stand in a fast moving river and catch ugly fish with their hands? As I watched it, the belief I had in the progress of evolution drained out of me onto the floor. Newman lapped it up. Suddenly he tried to become bipedal, but failed. Oh, I think the ugly fish have progressed, but…

So I'm a creationist now. God created the universe in one shot, didn't practice first, and made some mistakes. Big ones. Can you imagine creating a whole universe and not at least writing down some initial steps first. Sure, He has to create a piece of paper and a pen first, in a void, and a language, and then a quick jot. What am I saying? He could text instructions with an ipad (to whom I'm not sure) and then quickly destroy it so we can have Steve Jobs. Do you know how much I practiced for my big solo during Shake Your Sillies Out on the piano? UnGodly hours.

He tries to cover up the mistakes with the Alberts - Einstein, Schweitzer, Fat - but refuses to take responsibility for Rush Limbaugh, Kathy-Lee Gifford, Psy…And scientists say this whole, imperfect operation is expanding - space is stretching out and out. Awesome, a universe with stretch marks. That can only mean one thing. A baby universe is on the way. And then a postpartum universe. And after-universe floating around. Things won't be getting better soon.

Sorry, keep losing my thought train. So I was on the sofa, holding Newman's ball in my hand. He bounded up to the sofa with alacrity. And I had a moment to look carefully in his eyes. What I saw was astounding. If Newman's eyes are the window to his soul, his sole purpose was to get that ball. Nothing else. The focus was absolute, unflinching, unapologetic. I couldn't see a glint of any other goal. I suddenly felt a huge amount of respect for him. Maybe that's real intelligence. Maybe that's meaning. What's the meaning of life? Ask yourself what are you doing right now? That's the meaning. It's so simple that it's really difficult. Then the vacuum started and Newman was under the sofa.

If I had that focus, the things I could do. I feel like I could write a symphony, win a gold medal in tennis, or perhaps make it through the day without napping.

So that's the lesson I learned from Newman. Keep your eye, your soul, on the ball. It's simple, but it ain't easy.

If Newman were ever to commit suicide, he would most assuredly hang himself. Of course he never would, since he lives in the moment (also, you can't chew a rope to pieces and then wrap it around your neck). Unless for that moment he lost all hope. Even then, that moment would end in a moment he would be on to chewing a bra strap (puppy see, puppy do). Plus the obvious - his relaxing life style. He's fed, housed, bathed, has no job, gets to spend lots of time alone reflecting, has clear direction as to how to behave so as not to be punished. Wait, this might also describe a prisoner at Guantanamo Bay. But we've never once flushed his toys down the toilet.

That strikes an idea in my brain. To teach the children manners and politeness at Mrs. Parks Nursery School, we could sing Down by Guantanamo Bay. I won't rhyme anything here for fear of retribution.

Anyway, he would hang himself because he is so used to extreme pressure around his neck. He must love it because when I walk him, I swear he thinks he's ploughing a field in 1800s Ontario. Must be from staring at all those fields as we drive to the cottage and he drags saliva and any number of strange foods and bra material all over the window.

My rotator cuff is killing me holding on to that leash. I have no idea what a rotator cuff is. Is it part of a dress shirt? I just know people tear them playing insane sports, like Rugby or Crokinole, and keep doctors in big houses.

Damn, I have to teach some brat, ah student, piano now. Sorry the first entry is a serious topic, but you should know I will not shy away from uncomfortable topics. I grew up on Phil Donahue. I will look you right in the screen and tell you the truth. I also watched the Three Stooges, so…