Experience teaches us that in spite of our best efforts to come around to "the good red road" there is almost always a mistake to be made lying in wait around the next corner.
Case in point; driving the old Jaguar across Montana in 100 degree heat with wife and son, camping gear, music loud, really loud, taking the hills at 90+ mph when all of the sudden the oil pressure drops to zero and we are stranded - cooking and derailed. Major engine damage is likely, this was an expensive lapse.
A much as I want to hate myself and drive the stake of failure deep into the heart of the vacation experience, somehow we manage to dust off our boots and make lemonade, gallons of it, continuing on our way as if these kinds of interruptions are part of what makes us human.
You see I am a human being after all; the books may speak of some kind of fall from heaven, some manner of angel imitating man, but the reality is cleaner, deeper, fundamentally more difficult to dodge; like a good flood in a Wyoming gully.
Human beings all are we, that little part of me in all of you; that suffering, broken, hopeful part of you that is in me. I am more than a weather vane on the temperament plateau with thin scars of removable wings singing at my shoulder blades. I am no less than forever and no bigger than your smallest hope.
Yours,
B
Yours,
B
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