penn

Personal Philosophy

I've had some discussions over the past few days with quite a number of people online. I won't bother to explain the backstory (it's complicated and perhaps not really relevant), but it did bring up something I find crucially important in life.

I am of the mind that you cannot fix what has already happened, but you can move forward and make better decisions.

For a good part of my late-teens and early-twenties, I spent a lot of time lamenting decisions I made. And these were not decisions that I made hastily or incorrectly; I made the best decisions possible given the information I had. Unfortunately, due to circumstances, the decisions ended up being incorrect in hindsight. It took me quite a number of years to accept that this just sometimes happens. The key to living your life well is not to attempt to reverse your past, as you can no longer control what has already happened; rather, you must move forward in life and use information from your past to make you a better, stronger, happier individual in the future.

Nerstrand

Some readers have mentioned that I haven't been posting much. I've definitely got some good reasons, including my job (it keeps me really busy!) and being sick (going on two weeks now). But a far better reason for not posting as much is the following:

This is Matt (not to be confused with my brother Matt. yes, weird, but you can't help who you meet). He's pretty snazzy. He teaches high school physics and chemistry, so we have fun little nerd fests.

This weekend, Matt helped me achieve one of my 101 goals: 12. Go camping

What with my work at the nature center, this poem has been in my head recently. I've heard it many times, but I still get a shiver as I read it out loud. I just read it to one of my coworkers, and I thought I'd share it with you.

Traveling Through The Dark, by William Stafford

Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.

By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.

My fingers touching her side brought me the reason--
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born.
Beside that mountain road I hesitated.

The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;
under the hood purred the steady engine.
I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;
around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.

I thought hard for us all--my only swerving--,
then pushed her over the edge into the river.