Running for Your Life: Robert Bolt’s “A Man for All Seasons”

And so our arts education resumes.

What stirs in the ungiving heart but a cold draft and here is what Sir Thomas More, the Man for All Seasons, will not forfeit: the dignity of his faith, private beliefs vs. public duties.

The message here is that strength and honor come from an intelligent, consistent belief in society. That a selfless approach to life – insert golden rule here  – for want of a better term this time of year is the Christmas spirit (leave irony at the door, for once).

It is, hopefully, a time for a revival and renewal, to consider the greats of moral strength and duty who do the right thing. How actions that are driven by a selfless consideration of others are not to be seen as weakness. Rather it is to be, in the language of Trump, the bully of a compassionate heart.

As an example, consider the splendid humanity of Bolt’s “A Man for All Seasons.” A universal lesson that these days seems drowned out in a society that values power at any cost.

Obviously, the glory here is not the physical. Sir Thomas More is beheaded for his steadfast unwillingness to renounce his faith. Here is the grander spiritual victory.

More becomes a symbol of pure resistance, the saint for not just this season of hate and tweeting discontent, but for all seasons.


Next: Running for Your Life: Think Different Again

Running for Your Life: Subway Notes

The thing I love about the subway is the rawness of the people energy. What is the promise of an early love of mass transit. Not always realized.

But on days such as this (Dec. 1), my body shot through with adrenaline after a 4-plus mile run in the brilliant sunshine of Prospect Park – marking the classic style of the mature Japanese maple, red and orange leaves, rubies in the shimmering light along the ridge run adjacent to Prospect Park Southwest, beyond Sixteenth Street, a beauty for the residents of Windsor Terrace to enjoy on an everyday morning stroll – I am gasping with the memory of it all, yet another treasure brought to mind and put into my subway journal, a gentle reminder to seek out in these next few weeks  the leaves still held fast in these dreamscape trees.


Next: Running for Your Life:  A Man for All Seasons

Running for Your Life: Holiday Reading List

This blog is not exactly the place to go for listicles, but when it comes to my love of reading (the space being devoted to the three “Rs” – running, reading and ’riting), I’m making an exception.  Safe to say, these titles aren’t your garden variety best-seller variety. Just my faves at the moment, and who knows, maybe there is something here that will light up your soul while you light up your Christmas tree and front porch …

1/ David Constantine, “The Life-Writer,” a novel. Unforgettable voices, gorgeously shaped sentences.

2/ David Constantine, “In Another Country,” stories. Ditto, ditto.

3/ Colum McCann, “Thirteen Ways of Looking,” a novel, stories. Strangely entrancing.

4/ David Szalay, “All That Man Is,” A “page” of music. Wondrously elegiac.

5/ Jarett Kobek, “I Hate the Internet,” a novel  (I’m guessing). Manic brilliance of sloppiness. War cry for our times.

6/ Larry McMurtry, “Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen,” nonfiction. On the simple joys of reading, esp. for those who grew up in a literary desert. A Larry who loves books in the most selfless, inviting way.

7/ Alice Munro. Everything.

8/ Mary Morris, “The Jazz Palace,” a novel. Music IS the page. (Disclaimer: She is my genius wife.)

9/ Valerie Martin, “The Ghost of the Mary Celeste,” a novel. Love historical literary fiction with a twist? This is the best of the best.

10/ Steve O’Connor, “Thomas Jefferson Dreams of Sally Hemings,” a novel. Fever dream of imaginative wonder. Think you know Jefferson? Think again …

Next: Running for Your Life: Subway Notes

Running for Your Life: Irony Watch – Beyond Coincidence

I’m excited to introduce a new feature of the Running for Your Life blog, Irony Watch – Beyond Coincidence.

Today’s item, observed midday 11-29-16 during a single-stop ride aboard the Manhattan-bound R Train, Union Street to Atlantic/Pacific:

Display ad for a meditation consumer service company (I guess …) called Headspace shows a mean-looking millennial woman in buff workout clothes, crooked arm cradling a mini-barbell, amid the following words:

I MEDITATE
TO CRUSH IT

Next: Running for Your Life: Holiday Reading List

Running for Your Life: Leaf It to Me

On Nov. 22, two days before US Thanksgiving, the leaves in the ginkgo trees glow like fire. In the Brooklyn morning, when M and I walk T, our hound dog, the blinding sun of pre-winter morning sparks the flames. Non-ginkgo leaves are down, or speckled in and out of shadow. Like they’ve been gutted in the ginkgo inferno.

It will not always be like this. Ginkgo trees afire, not a single leaf having fluttered to the ground, will soon face the equivalent of the fire hose. A blustery wind that in a hour – perhaps even less – will sweep into our heroes and send them all – in bunches, or ones, twos, threes, into a whirligig dance, pinwheeling on different courses, not one like the other. Literally impossible for the human eye to track their darting and swimming and flatlining journey.

That is why I count it as luck, an omen of delight, when I’m running in Prospect Park and the magical leaves of one of these trees is finally aloft, and somehow miraculously lands and is caught in my outstretched hand.

So far, I’ve caught one leaf like that this season. A wee yellow elm (or poplar? or beech?). But the ginkgos? They are still aflame. But soon, soon, in the next big wind, I’ll be out there, bracing for the tree-gift catch of my life.


Next: Running for Your Life: Holiday Reading List