Joseph L. Kagle, Jr. Peace Essays

Years ago (36 years in fact) I joined Rotary so that once a week I would stop my business mind and enjoy, with the company of other like-individuals, some new ideas and new information. The fellowship that was begun at that luncheon would many times extend into the other days of the week. It is fun to join the best and brightest for something to feed the body, the spirit and the mind. Of course, during the year, we all gave service back to the community but the wonder was in the moment of getting together. In that moment, there was no destructive thoughts or conflicts. The atmosphere was that of peace and goodwill. One learns that to enjoy living, one must see and experience the moment, leaving the stresses of surviving outside and allowing the wonder of what is before us to embrace our being. What we need for peace is to survive with wonder, to extend our moment in the sun and therefore live longer in that moment. To find personal peace, the moment is everything and whom you are with in that moment is the most important person in the history of the world. To do less is not to live fully. Good salesmen and enjoyers of life know this works.

Extend the Moment. Live Longer

Driving down Valley Mills Road early in the morning, after leaving a 7:00 a.m. Rotary meeting because of missing the previous day's meeting, thoughts raced around the speedway of my mind. There was so much to do and so little time to do it all. And "all" was what most of us want to do each day. We have forgotten to leave a little for the next day. We have forgotten Hewingway's lesson when he left a story incomplete in a day's writing so that the next day he had someplace to start the process of creating a new day's work.

Driving down Valley Mills Road, I determined that I would see, record and marvel at the sight of Lake Waco. There had been so many days when that same resolution had been made and I was surprised when I realized that I had missed the whole wondrous scene, thinking about a telephone call which had to be made, or a deposit in the bank, or a chore that just had to completed in the next fraction of a second. This time I was determined that I would see and enjoy.

Going down the hill, I received glimpses of the smooth waters through the trees. Then the scene opened as I got to the lake shore. Finally, it spread before me: a simple scene of blue sky, glass-like lake water, the Spring-filled trees and bushes, and another hill to climb with my Ford chariot. The moment was held as long as it could be held. It was extended in time by the joy of the scene. The serene horizontal of far off shore, the water that danced with light and soft color filled my being. I had done it. I had captured the moment. The fast pace of modern living had not won the day. Light, color, water, sky, green-green and rocks were all that existed.

It is the same struggle that was depicted in the recent movie, "Star Trek: Insurrection". A major theme centered around a battle against those who would cast out innocence, art and fulfilled-living and those who held these attributes close to the heart. The 300-year-old beauty showed Captain Pecard how to extend the moment by blowing pollen from a flower. The star-like golden specks gleaned in the sun's light in slow movement. Pecard, a man of the future (our future of technology and swift action) was forced to slow his glaze to a shuffled pace.

Lake Waco was on the way again. I had to rush to Kinko's to get something reproduced quickly. That is what Kinko's was created to do, to speed up our office work. Again, it was a struggle to forget my hectic job for a moment. I had to say, "Work does not exist. Work does not exist." And for the moment coming over the crest of the hill, diving into the green blue of the lake and the magnificent Texas sky, work disappeared. Isn't that what all of us wish to do? To live longer. Not in years, but in the extension of the moment. It is not the length of our lives that counts but how we use each precious moment and extend those moments. Lake Waco is a wonderful place for extended moments. Modern life does not allow long periods of slow contemplation, but when we can have them they are the joy of living. We can truly see, hear, feel, enjoy and learn.

It reminds me of the story of the beggar in an India market. He was starving. All day, day after day, he begged for money. A kindly merchant watched this drama for a week. Finally, he gave the beggar money and told him to buy himself some food so that his life would be prolonged. The beggar thanked the merchant and took half the money and bought food. With the other half, he bought a flower. The merchant was angry. He had not given the man money to throw away. "Why have you bought that flower?" asked the irate merchant.

The humble beggar answered, "Half your money will keep me alive for half a day. Holding the flower in my hand while I eat makes life worth living".

           Lake Waco is this beggar's flower.

When asked where I get the ideas for articles and essays, I tell the questioner that they are on the wind all around us. What we must do is stop and feel the breeze on our face, hands and arms, allowing several deep breathes so take the wind into our spirit. I never work linearly, starting at a beginning, expanding the idea in the middle and summing up at the end. I start with the “darling part”. That is a term that song writers use to explain the tune that the listener keeps humming, long after the song is over. I start at what moves my spirit and mind, a center to the experience, and work out toward a beginning and a conclusion. It is how we live. We were not there at the beginning of time and will not be around at its end therefore we must make the best of the middle. I wonder at times if this is a way to approach peace as a way of life.

THANK GOD IT'S "FRYDAY"

I got a call the other day, after one of my articles was printed in the opinion column, and the question was asked, "How do you come up with some of your ideas? What you write about is personal and yet I identify with it. What is your process?"

I thought that it was a good question. My process has grown over the last five years since I was first asked to join the Board of Contributors. It certainly has gotten shorter. I try very hard now to write about ONE THING AT A TIME. When I started, I tried to write about the history of the world, animal, vegetable and mineral with appropriate comments of a philosophical, humorous and whimsical nature, in one article. In other words, I tried to do too much in the space given. You cannot fill a two gallon jar with eight gallons of wisdom, but you can sometimes mix metaphors just for the fun of it.

I use OTHERS to give voices to a myriad of points of view, mostly mine but also some voices which are not always heard or voices which I disagree with. I try to write about ideas, experiences, events and people who frequent the living rooms of the world. The normal news media fills in the landscape. I fill in the genre experience from a different point of view. For example, if everyone is talking about OJ, I write about the ordinary events which are lost in the blitz of the media. My wife was asked after a recent article, "Did you say that?", and before she could answer the questioner was told by someone else, "He makes up some things or takes statements by others and puts them into his character's mouth." When my wife got home, she told me, "You are right. Even if I do not say things, others will speak for me."

I get an IDEA from a word, a child, the look and feel of a day, a quote from a friend, an emotion or what is not said, seen or felt. I make a note to jar my memory and place it near my computer. It lingers there until it SINGS to me. Right now, one of my staff at The Art Center has placed a note on my door which says, "It is easy to fly when you take yourself lightly." She said when she brought it in, "This is you." She was right. At another time, the same individual gave me, "Do not use a hatchet to remove a fly from your friend's forehead." I have not decided where these quotes will be used but they are seeds for ideas. They will be used (if not in articles, at least in my life).

Then I allow the idea to BOUNCE AROUND between the twin temples of my mind. I sleep on ideas for months sometimes and, if the right door opens, I find that the idea presents itself fully dressed and ready for my party. I have been working with two professors at McLennan Community College on a joint teaching effort for the Tartan Scholars, highlighting our joint passions for milestones in the visual, musical and theatrical arts. We are still in the formative stage. We do know for sure that the class will be held in the fall on a passion-filled Friday.

The other night I ASKED MYSELF a question: "Self (I call myself that sometimes), how would the world react if we accepted misspelling as a reality? What if Friday was spelled "Fryday"?" I went to sleep with that idea. Sometimes, an idea comes during sleep, keeping me awake in the womb of night, until I get up and write it down, getting it outside of me. I know that birds only fly in an open sky. Ideas only come when the mind is clear. Therefore, Fryday began me thinking about a day with "sizzle". For my Hispanic friends, I thought, we could rename it Refrieday. For my Japanese friends, it would be Flyday, a free day to soar in spirit and mind. For those who work all the time, it is Flectday because they use the weekends to reflect on the precious week's work. For many, it should be called "Premature Saturday". Even Mondays are a lament that "It is not the weekend". They never learn to live in the moment. They have much to understand from Forrest Gump, the main character in a new movie (which I suggest we all go to see again and again). My good friends think that my head is an idea factory. It never has a weekend's rest. Any material sets it into motion. Everyday is the present tense.

After the initial writing is completed in draft form; I TALK IT OUT. I read the ideas to friends, to strangers, to children, to myself a lot, to my wife and offspring. I look for a reaction from someone. I just do not wish to waste people's time. I do not wish to bore except when boring means digging a channel into where someone really lives. Then boring is good.

Finally, I massage my language, shorten my text (I call it KISS, "Keep it simple, stupid!"), and WRITE the final missile.