Years ago, I had a themeless website where I collected and recorded things that interested me. I don't know what became of most of the stuff, but one thing I managed to save was a series of posts I wrote that I titled: "John Prine, You Wrote My Life."
In honor of John
I have no doubt John's songs have written millions of folks' experiences. These are mine.
John Prine, You Wrote My Life
a life unstuck in time (to borrow a phrase from Kurt Vonnegut, Jr),
so this story can go on and on in dis-order, added to at any time the whim (or need) arises
Chapter 10
Third Of July©
---The Missing Years
I believe that a thought has just gotten caught
In a place where words can't surround it
It concerns the years past and the shadows they cast
And my path as I walk around it
"I have a body," my two-year-old guru offered for another lesson in dimensional reality, as she threw both arms out wide after pulling off her clothes.
All my lessons are taught by such gurus. Those that haven't been sufficiently molded into a specific culture are the best suited humans to explain this dimension to me. Understanding it is best done by simply observing.
The patterns of the universe are everywhere. Specific outcomes are merely unimportant details. There are infinite manifestations of any given pattern. When I'm bogged down by a particular question, the answer is often found in the observation of patterns.
Why does life seem so hard sometimes? Why does movement seem impossible? Or, if I am moving, how can I really know which way I'm going? Does the road actually go anywhere? Some folks seem to be blessed by the absence of questions. And some seem to rely on a book of answers handed down to them from those who went before - somebody else's answers.
An old friend once said to me, "I hope you're not looking for answers, because there aren't any." I agree. That's true. And the converse is also true. There are infinite answers. Pick whichever one suits you, and change it when it doesn't.
On my periodic walk in the woods where the guru of rocks, plants and animals always waits, today I learned how to know which way I'm going. If it's difficult, tiring, strenuous, then the direction is upward.
At the bottom of the bluff, exquisite tiny red mushrooms are growing on decaying twigs. Only very close inspection on a slow walk could reveal these beauties. A close view is all that's afforded, however, because the trees and brushy undergrowth limit the range of vision. Only a steep climb to the top of the bluff opens a view of miles of wooded land and a broad blue sky.
There is no moral judgment to be made about the position of the view - micro or macro. Moving upward or downward are of the same value. They each provide a unique view, as do all stops along the way. It's only a choice. But now, I know how to tell which direction I'm heading.
I guess I still don't know if the road actually goes anywhere. Perhaps it only ends. And perhaps that's an answer in a future walk.
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