We did a mess o’ exercises that probably amounted to 500 reps, ran a couple of miles, got wet, and went to coffee.

And now (apropos of nothing), for your reading pleasure, here is a poem I wrote in 7th grade when my normally stuffy English teacher asked us to write a story or poem about the meaning of life. I was the only one in my class of 13 who submitted a poem—because I was just that cool. 

                   The Meaning

To learn to love the passion in a life,
To breathe the scent of beauty through your eyes,
To contemplate the wonder in a fall,
To learn to love the passion, that is all.

To tempt a fit of anger and embrace,
The scorned and hostile look upon a face,
To pass your tender fingers through the flame,
To feel the sense of comfort in a shame.

To swell the placid waters in your heart,
To pull the dull extremities apart,
To watch the shattered dreams descend to dust,
To understand the end is always just.

To celebrate your long-unanswered prayers,
To exalt the conscious acts of your betrayers,
To live your life like no one else can see you,
To know that love and letting go will free you.

To assert the cause as right despite the vanity,
To provoke the senseless judgments of humanity,
To take and give and conclude no debt is owing,
To determine that the joy is in the knowing.

To ride the rushing current that is time,
To pick the fruit of wisdom in its prime,
To only climb the mountain that is tall,
To learn to love the passion, that is all.

                   — Bruce Hurley

Yes, I got an A on the assignment. Yes, I was asked to recite it in front of the class. And yes, I was teased mercilessly by my classmates for thinking that any of this was cool. Actually, I didn’t “outcool” this occasion until I deliberately brought a briefcase to high school a few years later. (A story for another time.) 

I had briefly considered submitting the words to Led Zeppelin or Aerosmith to be put to music, but I determined that the lyrics were just too avant-garde for them. Besides, I didn’t want to sell out to “the machine” that early in my songwriting career. 

That’s it. If you want to read a real backblast, there are plenty of options out there. This installment is for trailblazers and revolutionaries only. You know who you are. I don’t have to tell you.