

Out of every hundred people
those who always know better:
fifty-two.
Unsure of every step:
almost all the rest.
Ready to help,
if it doesn’t take long:
forty-nine.
Always good,
because they cannot be otherwise:
four—well, maybe five.
Able to admire without envy:
eighteen.
Led to error
by youth (which passes):
sixty, plus or minus.
Those not to be messed with:
forty and four.
Living in constant fear
of someone or something:
seventy-seven.
Capable of happiness:
twenty-some-odd at most.
Harmless alone,
turning savage in crowds:
more than half, for sure.
Cruel
when forced by circumstances:
it’s better not to know,
not even approximately.
Wise in hindsight:
not many more
than wise in foresight.
Getting nothing out of life except things:
thirty
(though I would like to be wrong).
Doubled over in pain
and without a flashlight in the dark:
eighty-three, sooner or later.
Those who are just:
quite a few at thirty-five.
But if it takes effort to understand:
three.
Worthy of empathy:
ninety-nine.
Mortal:
one hundred out of one hundred—
a figure that has never varied yet.
~Wislawa Szymborska “A Word on Statistics”
(translated by Joanna Trzeciak)

No one can tell me,
Nobody knows,
Where the wind comes from,
Where the wind goes.
It’s flying from somewhere
As fast as it can,
I couldn’t keep up with it,
Not if I ran.
And then when I found it,
Wherever it blew,
I should know that the wind
Had been going there too.
So then I could tell them
Where the wind goes…
But where the wind comes from
Nobody knows.
~A. A. Milne from “Wind On The Hill.”

Of one hundred people who encounter this post today:
will wonder what photos of clouds have to do with statistics:
ninety two
will puzzle over what wind has to do with statistics:
seventy six
will delete without reading since it has to do with statistics:
twenty four
will “like” it because they are supportive gracious people:
six
will write a comment – if words come to them:
three
will wonder why it was necessary on a Monday morning
to be reminded about their mortality:
one hundred
At least it is nice to know we aren’t facing this alone…


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Thank you so much for your calming grace and loving kindness over our Monday!
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Laughing out loud. I think about mortality every day, anyway! And I love the Szymborska poem. Great to read it again.
Love,
Amrita
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Very well said, and clouds have a lot to do with the message because they are quite moody, frustrating, intriguing, and sometimes despairing! But they also protect us from the sun and bring us the long overdue rain! Bert Busink
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Your last line is the best!
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Ahh, the ever changing winds of life. The photos are stunning, as usual!
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I want to be one of the three … statistics are difficult for my tired head to wrap itself around so the beautiful cloud photos were the perfect counterbalance for me . As usual you have helped me start a long day on a good note , I am off for my weekly run to Ladysmith to visit my 97 year old Mother , we will go for a picnic at the beach and look at clouds , Don.
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Such a cool breezy day – hope you stay warm on the beach! blessings, Emily
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Love the clouds. Mesmerizing to watch them morph into different shapes. Some bright and translucent. Others darkly brooding over a shadowed landscape. I may be one of three but looking skyward was once my profession. I wish more would stop and be awed by what is unfolding just above their heads.
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