Lesson #1

Yesterday I took a walk through the Brooklyn Botanic Garden after discovering there is no admission on weekdays until February 29.

(No addmission = access for Rodney)



I suppose it's free because the organization doesn't feel there is enough traffic to justify charging admission during the colder months or perhaps they don't think there are enough things growing or, because of those reasons, there isn't enough money to employ a full staff for the entire year. Whatever the reason. I'm glad I took the walk because I got the opportunity to see something beautiful in my neighborhood and to appreciate the promise of Spring.

I tend to neglect the serenity of Winter, courting Summer, Autumn and Spring as my favorite seasons (in that order).


I love Summer's heat.
Wearing as little as the law allows, giving the sun its opportunity to shine on my uncovered parts.
Trips to the nude beach... So the sun can dance upon all my parts.
I even love to sweat.
Skin is an organ, the largest.
In summer, my sweating skin feels most alive.


Autumn is color; spectacular hues and textures.
The earth undresses for bed, shedding the layer the layer she put on to keep cool.
God really shows out.


Spring is the promise of things to come.
Flowers will bloom.
Trees will bear fruit.
I will be nekkid and sweat again.


But I am learning the beauty of winter.


Adam did a wonderful post, Seven Lessons I've learned in 2007. I am grateful to him for inspiring me to consider my own personal lessons and triumphs. As we go barreling toward 2008, like a runaway train with an unconscious conductor I will consider some of what I have learned. Rather than lump them all into one post, I'll stretch them out over the next two weeks. Not only because I want to make sure I have something to consistently blog about, but because I also want to make sure I really got the lesson and won't repeat the same mistakes in the new year. If I do repeat them, I won't beat myself up too badly because I've learned


I'm only human


Because we don't come with manuals that detail the plan for our lives, we are prone to make mistakes. Life, like medicine, is a practice. Everyday is another opportunity, not to get it right, but to get it. I have spent a lot of time judging myself and my actions based on the right and wrong of others. I tend to be extremely sad when I disappoint people and have spent a great deal of life trying to avoid it. In the process of avoiding mistakes, I've avoided living. Without mistakes, I have nothing to learn from. I embrace my mistakes and my humanity.