I pick up stuff when walking, seems like
I'm supposed to. Connections are then made between these physical items and my spiritual condition. These non-happenstances are often startling, mostly
affirming, sometimes puzzling, but always overflowing with rhymes
between spirits & facts, making mockery of our addiction to linear thought.
Recently I found a tattered golf scorecard on a neighbor's lawn from an Akron country club my dad Bernie and I used to play on 35 years ago. Dead since 1984, Bernie was telling me to carry on, despite the crappy
email received that morning rejecting some of my creative work.
This morning I completed an unexpected
trilogy. First it was last week’s nickel-sized photo of a little girl's face, probably
cut from a class picture, now glued to piece of fuzzy purple pipe cleaner. It
joined a 2 inch blue plastic bust of a robot ("Rock-em, Sock-em” vintage),
suitable for finger-puppetry. Rocko sat on the ground outside a church I exited
Monday night.
This morning the trilogy gelled around a 6
X 4 inch shiny plastic strip with the word "Surge" emblazoned across it, one of those velcro-enabled wraps
that you see on a kid's bike.
So, a little girl's face, a fighting puppet
piece and the command to move on with purpose. You could spend your whole life
debating the holy mystery of this trinity, or just realize this: life is about
remaining child-like, struggle is inevitable and keep moving forward if you
want to get to heaven. Real simple.
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