Let It Be

Rising out of the fog I am seeing the world with me in it again. I don't feel attached to this planet as I once was. I'm a visitor and only a guest at best. I'll participate as much as is comfortable. I'll leave when asked to. Either way is OK.

People ask, "Are you excited about _______?" I'm content. It occured to me that I am never excited. Sometimes annoyed, at times happy, other times sad to deeply sad, rarely angry, but never excited. Never afraid. In my past I was always excited or worked up about something. Content is better. Even deeply sad, I am content.

I'll participate in the world, but I won't get caught up in the world again. I'll let it be.

A documentary on Tupac is on TV tonight. I caught some of it because Aaron and Patrick were into the Tupac story. I of course was judgemental and discouraged their interest. I just found myself agreeing with what I heard this man saying, "We should be teaching kids about police brutality, aparthied, poverty, slums, real life sex, drug addiction, drug wars, but instead we make the kids take Gym. We teach kids to play volleyball." The interview I was watching was of a 17 year old Tupac. He grew up in the ghettos. I should listen to my kids. They were reading about Tupac, not Bill Clinton or George W. Bush. I was lucky and I didn't know it.


What is more imporant in Iraq and Afghanistan than the lives of American men and women?

Why are American soldiers tried as criminals for killing out of revenge and anger when the President and leaders of this country are still in office after starting war out of revenge and anger?

I don't remeber reading any stories in the last twenty years about people in Iraq wanting democracy.

Dads and sons playing catch or pitch and hit in the parks always catch my eye. Twenty years ago I could hardly contain my excitement about one day playing catch or teaching my son to hit a baseball. I was over anxious to teach them to catch a football. Those days came and went in a flash. Same as in a movie, when I stop to watch the young dads and sons my mind sees little Aaron and Patrick. Me with the bucket of baseballs. Aaron would grumble about the "wrong glove" or "stupid bat you bought!" Equipment Failure I would say to Aaron. Patrick would just hit the ball again and again. Little sweat beads on his nose. Aaron would get mad about Patrick smacking the ball around. Apparently I always through easy pitches to Patrick and gave him the hard ones. Operator Error.

We played in the park like that for years. Football took over for baseball for Aaron. In the end, I coudn't throw a football over Aaron. Everything, it seemed, he could track down and catch with ease. Better equipment I guess. September '04 was our last time in the park.

The neighborhood park is a sad place for me. My eyes burn.