I've reflected previously on the Latin term, memento mori, literally "remember to die," but interpreted as, "remember that death is coming." A goad to use the time you have, as best you can, even as it slips through your fingers and is gone.
But that's a tad bleak, on a sunny spring day. So I'd like to flip it around, to memento vivere, or "remember to live." Something I tell myself, continually particularly in the mornings, facing the prospect of what can seem isolated, dull days after the commotion of the holidays.
How to remember to live? Moving the great engines of commerce and literature, of science and government and politics, are well beyond my scope and I imagine yours too. So we notice the little things, like these fat pink magnolia blossoms, dappled with dew, Monday morning. They are full for so short a span — a few days really, a week at most — and then are blown away by winds or burnt brown by a frost.
The blossoms, and the little dog — almost 16 — playing in the yard beyond. I can drop her leash and she doesn't run off anymore, but dutifully trots ahead, or busies herself with her own exploration of the tiny world immediately in front of her.
And beyond that, the moon, 3/4 illuminated, at the "waning gibbous" phase, for those who care, a chalky smudge against a painfully blue sky that Artemis II is even now about to swing around.
You can view this two ways, each illustrated by its own song. There is Isabel Pless' "Little Life," a vindictive stab at a former lover after the Nashville-based Vermonter realizes, "forgiveness isn't working." It begins, "I hope hell's hotter than you thought it'd be/I hope people stop listening when you speak" after "you realize you're just some guy."
I hope karma's the bitch she's always been
I hope the regret eats you from within
That's one route, and I admit, most mornings I start there. But there's another, encapsulated, fittingly enough, in a Cordelia song, also named "Little Life" that I strive toward emulating, Monday more vigorously than usual. A lilting melody from the British folk pop singer that went viral in 2023, asking the question, "How would you have me described?"
A little bit moreAmen to that. You have to like your life, make yourself like it, whatever it happens to be — it's a requirement — because otherwise you just waste your precious time over things that didn't happen and people who aren't there. The acceptance that a certain program of my acquaintance goes on about. It isn't easy. In fact, sometimes it's hard. But like many hard things, it's also worthwhile.
A little bit less
A little bit harder than I thought they said.
A little fine
A little bit stressed
A little bit older than I thought I'd get.
But I think I like this little life.
Others appreciate it too. I couldn't help but notice that the Isabel Pless "Little Life" video has gotten 95 views in the past two years, while Cordelia's has had 868,000 views in the same span. Negativity grows tiresome. Trust me on that one.
Enjoy the quiet and slow days.
ReplyDeleteBreathe peace in…blow shit out
ReplyDeleteThank you for the magnolia memory. There was a saucer magnolia in the backyard of our first house in North Evanston, and it was in full bloom on the April Sunday in 1975 when we first saw the place as prospective buyers. That tree sold us the house, at least it did for me. I can't ask my wife if that's true for her, because she passed away a year ago December, and a week after her memorial service, that first house burned down. Memento vivere indeed.
ReplyDeleteEach day is precious in its own way.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful - thank you
ReplyDeleteThank you. I am going through some hard times. This helped.
ReplyDeleteA good little life is the perfect life... too many people in this age of grandiosity and celebrity fail to grasp that.
ReplyDeleteWhen I look back, I am often surprised at how often I feel lost.
ReplyDeleteThere are many reasons, but sometimes its nice to read your pieces to be reminded that i'm not as lost as i might think.
I wake up each morning and sit on the edge of the bed and say or think to myself I love my life. I love my goddamn life. I love my God damn mother f****** life.
ReplyDeleteGood or bad I look for satisfaction.
Franco
love "momento vivere"...especially today
ReplyDeleteLove this column. I got a kick out of the little poem the spurned lover came up with when forgiveness was not working for her!
ReplyDeleteDo not know anything about either Cordelia or Isabel Pless, so no comments about them. With age, I want far fewer lyrics, and mostly just music. Classical piano and cool jazz. Used to love the soothing sounds of smooth jazz on the radio, but that genre has died out in America. In the rest of the world, not so much.
ReplyDeleteYouTube has countless videos by outfits like Pause Maybe (Japan, 23 million views) and Nebula Breeze (Brazil, 4 million views). They are to my ears what a drink or a joint once were to my cabeza. Not everyone's cup of tea, but they help to get me through the days and nights of my so-called life. Don't hate my life yet...let's just say I am liking it less.
Physical ailments are increasing with advanced age. Getting less active, and more sedentary and lethargic. Less socializing. More sleeping. My wife's moderate hearing loss has become a key factor in our existence. Far less conversation, an increase in communication difficulties, and longer periods of silence. Less TV, and more hours of staring at different screens in the same room.
Have always been long-winded and wordy, in both writing and speech. Have now been forced to stifle my opinionated verbosity. My yammering no longer goes in one ear and out the other. It doesn't go into any ear at all.
The tree adornments of spring certainly don't last long enough for my taste. But, while maybe "it's been a long, cold, lonely winter," we've made it through.
ReplyDeleteMarch is often frustrating, weather-wise, and this year was not an exception. "The tumultuous transition from winter to spring." Not much but bare branches, dirt and brown grass to look at outside. But either that 80° day last week was a coincidence, or that and the storms jump-started things. Of course, we were pretty much clouded out of viewing the Full Pink Moon, as sometimes happens.
Spring flowers are finally blossoming, the trees are perking up (as pictured above), and the grass is green now. It seems like it will be a good year for the cherry blossoms by the Museum of Science and Industry, which are already appearing, but will only be there for 5 to 10 days, according to the Sun-Times article today. Now's the time to enjoy such things while they're making their brief annual appearance!
https://chicago.suntimes.com/news/2026/04/06/cherry-blossom-tree-jackson-park-bloom-museum
Climate change is affecting spring plants and flowers in northern Ohio. Even trees and bushes are affected. Leaves and greenery are sprouting sooner. Warm spells are happening earlier, and cold spells are happening later. Temperature changes are more frequent and extreme. Rises and falls of thirty and forty degrees, from one day to the next, are becoming more common. Especially this year. The last month has been nuts.
ReplyDeleteUsed to be cold and wet and often snowy in March, and then warmth would creep in gradually and the magnolias and forsythias would appear in mid-April. Now they come out earlier and the cold and snow come later...and turn everything brown or black, and they look blowtorched. So much for spring posies.
Occasionally, everything is "normal" and our magnolia tree looks gorgeous for days on end. Not this year. A few days of glory, and it's over. But the cherry blossoms were already out this past weekend, all over town. Magnificent!
We need to try and understand climate change is proven by scientific data and computer modeling.
ReplyDeleteIt has nothing to do with our observations of our local weather patterns.
Just like the denier that says it's 52 degrees on an August day and this proof it's a hoax our memory of the weather patterns 30 ,40 ,50 years ago proves nothing.
Leave it to the scientists
Franco