Whiff

There is something altogether painful about this, don't you think?
Missing entirely.
After giving so much effort to the process.
And yet, well...

The photo says so much
Conveys so much feeling

In the vernacular, it's known as a "whiff".
Probably related somehow to the sound of all that effort
Going to naught, in the end
And, indeed, the sound of something slicing through all of that

Nothingness.
A vacuum of energy simply dissipated

Having played and enjoyed sports for most of my life,
I have experienced the terrible sensation of the whiff.
And it is so very painful to endure
Especially after the fact, when said effort has been thus expended.

In later life, a similar experiences play themselves into other arenas.
Having developed somewhat of a blogger following
It was very strange to find my most recent posting
Going unnoticed, relatively

After the effort of putting together something I thought so terribly clever
So worthy of pensive comment from near and far
And yet, like the poor fellow in the above-captioned photo
The feeling the same, day after day, sans comments

Therein lies a blogger's whiff


Recently, a couple of trade shows have bestowed similar effect
On the good shower curtain ring salesman herein
While pensively awaiting in his booth, he
Finds so many good folks passing his way

Engaging in a passing conversation about the weather
About the fair in question, even
About the good product in front of them
A business card taken, a brochure, a promise of a later phone call

But in the end, the sounds and efforts the same
Aren't they?

Whiff

Commenting recently on this phenomenon was my colleague
He brought in from the West Coast to assist the Expat
In the latest of our agricultural fair forays
He, like yours truly, about as far a fish out of water as I

Born and raised in Maui, he
Found himself looking like he had landed in Mars
Just like his flip-flopped faux-Texan colleague
There we were, together, Hawaiian shirts ablazing

In the middle of Louisiana.

Perhaps a fashion whiff, if you will.

But, in the end,
I wonder if such efforts aren't worth it after all
Truly, failures line the clouds of experience
That eventually provide something far more durable

Than even success, perhaps

That of experience


Knowing that this is just a part of life,
Maybe to be enjoyed for it's own gift, it's own contrast
To that of whatever was expected
By the best of our own flawed efforts

And then, to be kept
Treasured, even
With those fine experiences that contribute
To the wisdom of knowing that life is full of

Both

And, while the process may be painful
Standing there in that wayward booth, w
Watching the crowds thin
The sales day come to an end

And with that, the possibility of any receipts
Only to realize that

Maybe

There was something else going on after all.
Besides whatever game I perceived in question.

There was my colleague, now good friend
Now introduced to the finer aspects of carnival fare
For the first time in his life
Placed before him, by an ever-generous blog writer

That most American, most rural of country delicacies
Defiant of all health and medical condescension
Enduring ages of circus, of carnival, of sporting events
Affixed - maybe literally - to the heart of this nation

And, yes, while the day's whiffing was hurtful
Lasting, even, while it meshes with other internal scar tissue,
There, tucked inside those other impressions
Is something that will always make my crinkled face smile

In the midst of this latest whiff

Was, maybe
Just the faintest of another kind of whiff

Of powdered sugar....

Life is strange, so very funny
Even in the face of a whiff, no?