Never Be So High

 What are you? 

What am I? 

There are days I know the answer well. 

There are also days I know nothing. 

The sun shines, and the windows are down

I float along in my bubble that seems self-sustaining

The music plays, and it is beautiful

3 months later, I wish to remove the bass line from it.

Who do I really think I am, taking gifts and tampering?

You can shine, I can shine, we can shine.

Then I isolate, doubt, and disassemble, 

because the higher we fly, the further we fall.

What a dream it is to soar and see for miles at a time,

but I cannot be trusted to decide my own fate.

It only leads to falling into a land full of agitation, 

people hating you and people hating themselves.

At the heart of the matter, I do not wish to be so high

that I cannot see the people I love, 

those who make my life great, lifting me up.

I never want to forget that it is them and not me.

We take so many things for granted.

We need to constantly be on guard.

I never want to be so high

where I cannot see you.

I sit here this morning thinking about everyone I will see today.

Because of them, I have opportunities.

Every interaction and every decision is a chance to make the day a little better.

I never want to forget. It is about them and not me.

The Disintegration of the Gun

 It is the course of difficulty that I walk. I lean into the rain and the wind. Pushing, gritting teeth, grabbing for holds in the landscape, and I am happy to do it. I understand what is at stake. Even though I am not playing at the table I stand at, I know the dealer plays a psychological game with me. My ability to opt out of his gravity has limitations.

The fact that I am still allowed to make choices despite the pull is where the definition of true love lies. The defining line, beyond which the pain and broken dreams dissipate without substance, is a mere watery mist that, within seconds, cannot be seen.

Photo by S. Tsuchiya on Unsplash

In the realm of physics, nothing changes. That absolute antagonist bears down even harder, pressuring, depriving freedom of movement and even thought. But then, that is just brought to nothing. How can one ever define this? Do we really need to?

Someone very dear to me asked a rhetorical question the other day: What have we learned from this human drama? There is more answer to this than anyone knows. The decisions made as a parent have far-reaching benefits or perhaps consequences. Indeed, we must choose carefully. There comes a time when our comfort and contentment are not necessary. We have a duty. It is a matter of respect and honor.

"All of this human drama, have we learned anything?" Yes. The answer is simple, but it must be complete. We are a fickle people. We tear apart anything that even has the slightest imperfection. It is the black speck of debris on the pure white snow. It is the tiny crack in the tile seam of the shuttle Columbia. Like the physical law itself, that is who we are. When the answer comes, we have to see it for ourselves. We have to know that there are no other options. The ultimate dead end, and ultimately honest answers to the questions.

The disintegration of the gun, all of which pierces us today, ultimately comes to nothing. It is an undeniable testimony to assure our hearts that we did all we could; we truly have learned who we are and where we need to go.