Time Slipping Into the Future

Eleven days have passed since my last post. Days have been different as if a page was turned again. Not sure what caused it, but I went from feeling twisted about Aaron's death to feeling at peace. It wasn't an overnight thing, more like a violent late winter storm followed by cold, crisp, quiet.

When I was a little kid, the quietest place I knew was in the big snow drifts on the edge of a giant potato field. I could see for miles. The only break in the view were a few sticks of trees and an old, orange brick farm house. The late afternoon sky in January was gray-orange with streaks of clouds. No noise. No wind. When I think of peace, that image comes to mind. A snow-mobile suit, stocking cap, choppers,and Sorrels kept me toasty warm. Eleven years old; Total peace.

Today I focus on keeping clear of the turmoil. A moth to a flame is the way I see the dangers of getting caught up again in the temptations of life. Never again do I want to think I am more than what I am. Never do I want to throw caution to the wind or extend myself beyond what I know are my capabilities.

There was a time in my adult life where I disagreed with contemporary attitudes about limitations. I was forming an idea that the only person who can truly know my capabilities is myself. "Recognize your comfort areas and be honest about your abilities", I told myself... Then I gave way to a more "fighter" attitude. "Go where others fear to go! Drive for success! Never quit!" These mantras where more in line with champion thinking. Somewhere along the road, how things looked became more important than how things were. There is not alot of peace in that life.

Life's lessons taught me the difference between being a Warrior and a Fighter. To me the Warrior has virtues of prudence, self honesty, humility. The Fighter is ignorant to reality. Denial and resentment fuel the fighter. Aaron was a Warrior in the end. I think we both were fighters for a time---that didn't work well for us. I hope to be a Warrior like my son.

With respect for my son,

Tom