sanity

I've just realized that maintaining a center of balance in the midst of a maniacle, military environment could prove to be a rather challenging discipline. Lately, remembering to look inside and take stock sneaks up on my consciousness like a theif in the night. So, as I play mother weaving through oblivious faces picking up errant, half-drunk cans and bottles I am reminded of the importance of listening to the voice that keeps me on my toes, alert and willing. Hungry for healthy food. Always moving forward. Doing what must be done at the present moment.

my release point

Have you ever stood beneath a starry sky, drunk and lonely, and asked yourself why you erased all the contacts from your cell phone? Is it possible for an individual to manufacture a moment of pure, unadulterated isolation and still grow? Only in the sense, I'm convinced, that the lesson is one hurled from a totally unexpected angle....

One time I was trying to teach my youngest sister how to properly throw a frisbee...not just any frisbee, but a driver. Now, for all of you disc golfers out there in happy-land, you know that the driver is the thickest and heaviest in your ridiculously unnecessary arsenal of discs. Anyway, like any good brother, I demonstrated for my sister the proper form and the critical release point and follow-thru and then stood back and told her to give it a whirl.

There is no doubt in my mind that she had every intention of executing my instructions perfectly, however, as her hand passed the critical release point with the disc still in her fingers, and as I pondered my choice of positioning next to her, it became very clear to me what some unfortunate pioneer might have felt at the hands of an Indian warrior as he peeled the scalp from his skull. Sharp and beautiful.

As I fell to my knees cursing like an unrepentant convict, I noticed how terrified she was and how much more I was concerned for myself than for my sister. Sad to think about now, but even after the wounds healed I never tried to teach her again.

An American Dream

Television is the anesthesia of our culture. My only question is this: For what surgical procedure are we being prepared? If my system wasn't abuzz with that very nearly-numb sensation I might feel some ominous burden of impending doom. But I'm happy to just crash, feeling blessed to have found my bed...just as I left it, still warm, quilt outstretched calling me back into the folds of its promise...: Don't worry, you won't feel a thing.