Monday, March 23, 2009

I Hope The Worst Is Over

As you can plainly see, this has been a tough time for me. It's really not the picnic you'd think it'd be to have something as magnificent, famous, and awe-inspiring as Old Faithful all as your own. Like having anything, it's a mixed blessing.

Possessions and me don't necessarily go together. It's like a teeter totter. You think you're up but then you're down. To have anything is to suffer. It'd be better to be wandering naked like the Ahimsa. But then we acquire what we have. Easy enough until it's something gigantic. It reminds me of an old friend from high school who owned a guitar too good for him, he thought. You'd think someone with the great skills this guy had would know that guitar was lucky to have him, but he didn't see it that way.

This could be why I barely step it up as far as possessions. Not to imply that I'm all that careful. I'm as busy accumulating as anyone. But look at the house. We barely make improvements on it. The garage is about as Grandpa left it. The lawn mower is an old auction sale lawn mower. We stepped up to a flush toilet but that's about it.

OK, here's the thing. Yesterday I was at the bottom of my game. Hence my rant. This morning things were still pretty bad. I was laying on the floor for a while, until it got too hard. Ouch. But I forced myself to get up, sit in a chair and stew. "Wah wah wah wah," went my mind -- with no apparent way up. Until something happened, I don't know what exactly. And it broke just like that. I snapped out of it. Whatever price you have to pay, I guess I did.

Now I'm thinking what? I think I've written it before, like the guy who pulls his mantle up to his face and looks across from the hill. You just stare at the horizon. Like Kierkegaard's Abraham, looking very askance at what is demanded him. Like it's something to tolerate, not to understand or accept. But if you don't have a certain amount of acceptance, what you're called on to tolerate next time might be much tougher to bear.

The worst may be over. It's time to pump it up, Old Faithful. It's time to fetch Cousin Roto back to his station. Let him fidget with the knobs. Keep the gauge out of the red. Keep the smoking down to a minimum. Attach the gas jets, fills the steel balls with water, scrub down the central tube, duck and cover. Hit the switch and let it spew. Old Faithful shall rise again!

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