The other day, sitting to draft a careful, analytical, necessarily critical article about the latest outrage – and there is more each day – I dared to let my eyes creep up, take in the outdoors, beyond my biggest window. Darn the world’s a mess, I thought, and then I got quiet, and thought some more.
Yes, it is a mess, what with the government too big, debt too high, moral compass gone, so much to revile, and accountability out of style. Honesty, integrity, where are they when you need them? I started to go down, to ask myself one more time why – everywhere you turn is a cause to sigh? Then I stopped.
I was reminded of what I preach. You are a victim if you let yourself be one. You are the master of your destiny, if you choose to be. You cannot control what you hit, but always control how you respond to it. I was reminded of Churchill’s quote mid-WWII, “Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference.”
I was reminded of once falling through the ice, and in that moment knowing, you either take control and make things right, assert what you can over what you must, or end up elsewhere, dust to dust. I rallied then, and so have you, or we would not be here now, me writing, you reading, both of us thinking.
And then it swept me, looking out across the changes brought by our latest winter storm: We mostly know what the problems are, near and far, the ones we want fixed, the things we should not tolerate.
We know good things come from energy and effort. We know what it takes to speak up, stay focused, weather criticism, let it come, stay the course. We know who we are, those who believe in things like hard work, history, faith, how to embark, and how to get to light from the dark. We know.
What we need is to refresh, show a little creativity, restart the engine, and recharge now and then. Issues come and go, but sometimes you have to just stop, and look out a window. Balance does come from history rightly understood and living fully in the now, but also bridging the distance somehow.
Much as I love issues, watching a musketeer’s sharp sword, truth in language skewering hypocrisy, duplicity, and betrayal of public trust, sometimes you need to slow the wagon, water the horses, pause for sanity, you must. Looking out a window after heavy snow can do that.
I am reminded of Aristotle’s notion of balance: “Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history, for poetry expresses the universal and history only particular.” If not always be true, there is something in it.
Plato wrote: “Poetry is closer to vital truth than history.” Again, as one who loves history’s application to modern problems, that causes me a little ouch, but then again, he may be right.
So, as the sun sets around this Northwoods house, I know the issues. We will unpack them ahead, waiting for November. But sometimes, the way Churchill found solace in painting, Reagan in letter writing, Powell in working on Volvos, and Theodore Roosevelt riding horses, we need that too.
We are sharpest, at our best, when we create, and are then refreshed. So, here’s what I see.
Easy sits the lantern light
On freshly settled snow,
No weight at all, like chiffon,
A warm and gentle glow.
Easy clings the Chickadee,
To aging oak of mine,
Twitch, peck, back to cavity
In her soft, reclining pine.
Now gingerly a squirrel
In his four-wheeled jeep,
Plods and pokes for acorns
In white stuff two feet deep.
But who says wintertime
Is not good distraction?
Change on change sublime,
Snow, then after action.
Why write a silly poem,
With so much else to do?
Because a poem and snow
Will the heavy heart renew.
This year is going to be a doozy, no two ways around it. We face big challenges, but keep it light too. We will wrestle with economic and security concerns, and rough electoral waters, calling on our best. So, be ready.
If you recharge your batteries by hiking, skiing, dancing, building, reading, writing, walking dogs, or shoveling snow; if you get stronger and recall how much of life there is to live, restore your balance and mojo cooking, bowling, playing pool, traveling, chess or cards, gardening, meditation, or football, do it.
For me, I like all those, as much as listening to rock & roll, Gilbert & Sullivan, Gershwin, or Handel’s Messiah chorus. Much is there for us, like all that snow. But here’s the thing. This is a year that matters, so recharge your batteries now. Time to get ready, mid-winter, prepare… because we are there, 2024.
Robert Charles is a former Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell, former Reagan and Bush 41 White House staffer, attorney, and naval intelligence officer (USNR). He wrote “Narcotics and Terrorism” (2003), “Eagles and Evergreens” (2018), and is National Spokesman for AMAC.
