The cartoon above is based on a dream…

…a sleeping dream from a few years ago.

In the dream…

I’m climbing up a set of stairs.

I come to a place where two steps are far apart—one stair looms high above the other.

To reach that step, I really have to stretch, to make an extra effort.

But I’m able to pull myself up and then continue on.

The message of the dream seemed obvious.  I’ve carried that message for some time now, and it’s helped me—the message has given me strength, has given me hope, during a difficult time.

Recently, the dream spoke again.  As I reflected back on it, I saw that the dream holds a hidden message—a message hidden in plain sight.

The dream supports my belief that, throughout our lives, we are climbing, ascending, working our way up, developing ourselves spiritually.

Towards what end, the dream does not say.  Perhaps the goal is simply to climb and keep climbing: to gain more and more perspective, to continually strive to elevate ourselves.

Yes, it’s my personal dream; it refers to my experience.  But since you and I can not be so different—after all, we’re both human beings—I think its not-so-hidden hidden message can apply to you, me, and everyone else.

But what if my unconscious mind, in this dream, is merely reflecting my conscious belief system—what I want to believe, what I’ve chosen to believe?

I have no proof that life is a continual growth process—a growth of spirit.  I can’t really say that the dream proves this belief to be true.

But whether or not it is true, this belief system helps me.  It keeps me working to develop myself.  It keeps me working to gain more perspective.  To follow the Golden Rule—as stated in all our good books…

It’s brought me to set this goal: to decrease my fear, to increase my understanding.  It keeps me working toward this goal, despite daily failures.

So, by holding this belief, I not only help myself, I help all of us—in some small way, I help this troubled world of ours.

This belief helps me when I’m confronted with those big steps…

…those steps that require that I stretch, that I push myself, that I go beyond what I think I’m capable of—those steps that we all face, at various times in life.

So, though I can’t prove it’s true, I’m keeping this belief.

This belief also tells me to focus on the here and now, tells me to “watch your step!”

Nonetheless, I can’t help but wonder where the stairway leads…

Which reminds me of another dream, told to me by a friend, years ago.

In the dream…

…she walks slowly, ploddingly, up a series of steps—the steps of a pyramid.

Finally, after much effort, she reaches the top.  And what does she find there?

The top of the pyramid is a wide level platform: a place of work.

That wouldn’t seem to be a very encouraging dream—a very encouraging belief.  We work and work just to arrive at a place of work!

But doesn’t the dream tell her that she’ll eventually reach a place where she can sit down…

….sit down and enjoy the view, enjoy her hard-won perspective?

Wherever the stairway goes, it’s also my belief that we—every single one of us—have no choice but to climb, to keep climbing.

How does that belief help me?

Well, if I have to climb…

…then I might as well not fight it, I might well try to be aware of what I’m doing, of what I’m trying to accomplish…

…and, in that way, make greater progress.

© 2012, Michael R. Patton
sky rope poetry

On the day of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birth…

…I’m reminded of how two groups can seem to agree, yet actually disagree on particular meanings…

…yet still, in principle, agree.

Let me explain…

Years ago, I met two German travelers who’d visited the Dexter Avenue King Memorial Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama.  The Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. pastored at this church between 1954 and 1960.

The travelers told their host that they could feel King’s spirit in the church.  Their host told that them that, yes, the congregation could still feel Dr. King’s Spirit in the church.

So they were using the same word, but giving it different meanings.

However, didn’t both the congregation and these travelers experience feelings of a higher order?  Didn’t they both believe that Martin Luther King lived on in this church?

Maybe Dr. King’s disembodied presence—his Spirit—still lingers in the Dexter Avenue church.  Whatever the case may be, his spirit is still there—and many other places as well: in many groups, many gatherings, many books, many recordings—in many people.

Though Dr. King can be found everywhere, I suppose we need such places as the Montgomery church—we need focal points, places where we can contemplate the lives of great individuals: their strength, their courage, their wisdom, their love—in short, their spirit.

Yes, we need such places…

However, I’m not one to make pilgrimages.  To my mind, it’s more important that we locate those qualities of spirit within ourselves, wherever we may be.

The German travelers showed respect and did not quibble over definitions with their host.  But were their definitions really in conflict?  Was the reality experienced by the travelers so different from the reality experienced by the church members?

Hopefully, our new mythology won’t mire itself in theological arguments—won’t argue over such definitions.  Disagreements in belief can too easily separate us…

…whereas, our shared feelings, our shared experiences, can bring us together.

© 2012, Michael R. Patton
sky rope poetry

I don’t think Elvis belongs in our new mythology…

…though some say he’s risen from the dead—they claim to have seen him at some fast-food outlet…

…and hordes of the faithful still make the pilgrimage to Graceland.

Yes, Elvis is now a legendary figure.  But legend is not myth.

However, we do have one Elvis story that’s close to mythic—that confronts us with questions of loss, of death, of the unseen, of how to meet the challenges of life on this Earth.

It’s the story of a dream…

A dream Elvis supposedly shared with a confidante.

In the dream, Elvis finds himself on-stage, performing in a blue spotlight.  Beside him stands his twin, Jesse Garon Presley.  Jesse looks, acts, sounds, performs just like Elvis.

According to this confidante, Elvis often wondered why he’d been the one chosen to live.  Why him and not Jesse—his stillborn twin brother?

Though I can’t peer into another man’s heart, I think I do understand a little something about survivor’s guilt.  I can understand why someone would ask, “Why are they dead while I’m still alive?”

I don’t believe in chance—including chance death.  I believe that when your time’s up, then you go… 

However, this belief doesn’t always satisfy me emotionally.  After all, emotion often doesn’t listen to reason.  No matter what I tell myself, I still feel the loss, I still wonder why I’m the one left alive.

The loss seems even greater when I realize that it’s not just my loss, it’s our loss.  When that person died, we lost the work they were doing, we lost the work they would have done, we lost what they would have given to this world if they‘d lived but a few years longer.

So how can I deal with these feelings of loss?

Well, I’ve decided to do as any good soldier does.  I will attempt to compensate: to try to do a bit more, to take up a little of the slack left by this person’s passing, to contribute more to the welfare of all.

“Win one for The Gipper” may be the corniest line in movie history, but if it works, I’ll use it.

Instead of repeating affirmations to ask for stuff, perhaps I could write down some version of the above.

But I suppose there’s other ways to help me remember my lofty ambition.  Often my mind drifts to those who’ve died, and when it does, I can recall this resolution and be spurred on.

Do the deceased sometimes hover about us?  Did Elvis’ dream tell him that Jesse Garon remained in his life in spirit form?

Perhaps.  Whatever the case may be, Jesse Garon was there, all through Elvis’ life…

…shadowing him just as those I’ve lost shadow me.

Such shadows may be heavy and dark.  But I think Elvis has shown us a way to lift their weight.   When I’m out there in the world, when I’m “performing”…

…I can imagine those people standing there with me—just as Jesse stood with Elvis.  I can feel them there with me, working with me, urging me on.

It’s important to remember that Elvis wasn’t sad in the dream—he was elated to find his twin on-stage with him—happy to hear the crowd cheering them on.

In the dream, Elvis wasn’t feeling guilty; he had no cause to feel survivor’s guilt: after all, his brother was still there, still with him, in his every word and act.

I want to keep that idea in mind as I go about my day—not only to help ease my guilt, to help ease my sadness…

…but also to help me as I walk the path these people walked, as I work to continue their work…

…as I try to reach the potential they saw in me.

© 2012, Michael R. Patton
sky rope poetry

At 12:01 a.m. on January 1, 2012, I turned over a new leaf.

However, the new leaf has only a tenuous hold on the old limb…

Yes, I want to make many changes in my life.  However, I know that change—significant change, deep change—happens slowly…tediously, painfully slow.

I say we acknowledge the truth of those words by emblazoning them across the forehead of our new mythology: change—real change, meaningful change—is a slow process.  I speak from hard experience.

So then, why attempt to turn over a new leaf so abruptly?

Well, it’s emotional with me: I want to feel as if I’m making progress—I want some definite signs I’m making progress.

I know I made progress in 2011.  But it just didn’t seem to be enough…

It didn’t seem to be enough, because there was little I could point to and say, “See, there’s proof: I’m making progress in my life.”

Yet I realize that change often goes unseen.  How do you measure it?  Where’s the scale?  I may not be able to see how I’ve changed—even years afterward.

I truly believe that our greatest accomplishments are unknown to us, for the most part.  They may produce visible results, in time, but nevertheless, the change that occurs within—the growth—is difficult to gauge.

I know that, and yet…

…I still want to see that I’m making progress.  I’d like to see some signs of progress.

So I’ve set myself a few goals—visible goals, measurable goals.  My thinking is: achieving these goals—these “outer” goals—will affect/reflect some inner change.  Achieving these goals will be a sure sign of progress, of inner growth.

However, I know from experience that this strategy can be self-defeating.

Often I set the bar too high when making plans.  I want to feel as if I’m really accomplishing something.  Isn’t more accomplishment better than less?

But such grand designs can lead to disappointment.  Later—perhaps at the end of the year—when I look back to consider what I’ve achieved, I’ll see that I’ve fallen short.  Then I may feel disheartened, and start to wonder if I’m really getting anywhere.

At such times, I remind myself that our greatest gains are unknown to us.  I remind myself that I can’t see, can’t realize, how I’ve grown.

So it comes down to faith…

…faith that we’re always growing, always moving forward, always making progress, even when we seem to be standing still.

Yes, I believe that to be true…Nonetheless…

…at the beginning of 2012, I’m turning over a new leaf.  I’ve procrastinated too long on too many things, and the beginning of a new year is a good excuse to refocus and decide what needs to be done and then do it.

Yes, I’m turning over a new leaf…but this time, I’m reminding myself to proceed slowly…slowly…

© 2012, Michael R. Patton
sky rope poetry

Why do we celebrate New Year’s on January 1st?

Because that’s the beginning of the year!

According to Julius Caesar.

He believed January would be a good month to begin the new year, since it was named for the god Janus.

Janus, the god of doors and gates, has two faces—one looking forward, the other looking back.  Like Janus, we’ll be looking forward, but also gazing back, as we enter the doorway of another new year.

Nonetheless, beginning the new year on January 1st seems like an arbitrary choice—especially in this modern age, when we’ve forgotten the god Janus…

Other ancient cultures placed the beginning of the year on the first day of Spring—the Vernal Equinox.  To me, this practice seems more in keeping with the cycles of life…

…and thus, more in harmony with the human psyche.

So, should our new mythology consider changing the date of New Year’s?

Ah!—but I’m so accustomed to starting the new year on January 1st.

Though I do little to celebrate, I still feel as if something new has begun on January 1st—the tradition is a part of me.  It’s ingrained.

But why have this major holiday follow so closely on the heels of another?  Why have New Year’s arrive only a few days after Christmas?

Well, perhaps this schedule works to maintain a balance: the sweet silent night of our Christmas is balanced by blaring cacophony of our New Year’s eve.

Religious scholar Huston Smith, remembering the 1920s China of his youth, described the village tradition of banging on pots and pans in order to scare off the demons of thunderstorms.

Maybe our New Year’s celebrations are supposed to work the same type of magic: we wish to shatter the demons of the long night—to blast away the darkness of Winter Solstice.

Ideally—I say, ideally—Christmas is a time of spiritual contemplation.  As we visualize the new birth, it’s a quiet joy we experience.  The life coming into being is still held within.

Thus, on Christmas eve, we say our prayers and sleep in peace, knowing good things will appear by morning.

Whereas, on New Year’s eve…

…we rise a ruckus ’til the sun comes up.  We need to stir ourselves back to life—to recognize that the dead winter has begun to break.  The dawning of new life has now begun.

So perhaps the date of our New Year’s is not so arbitrary.

Actually, I don’t believe that anything is completely arbitrary—I don’t believe in chance.  I believe our decisions governed by the unconscious—both on an individual level, and on a collective level.

Maybe Caesar’s selection of that date was no more than an intellectual whim…

…and maybe we maintain the tradition simply because we’ve become accustomed to it…

However, I believe there’s deep practicality at work…

…the practicality of what’s best for the psyche.

© 2011, Michael R. Patton
sky rope poetry

I’m feeling more Krampus than Kringle this Christmas.

For those unfamiliar with the Krampus legend of Alpine Europe…

Krampus is scraggily beast with cloven hooves, horns on its head, and a long demonic tongue.

A counterpart to Santa Claus, he snatches up naughty children and takes them back to his lair, where he serves them up for dinner.

So why am I more Krampus?  Why this snarly mood?  Is my attitude merely a reaction to the way we rush and swarm this time of year—stalking, snatching, and devouring with the rapaciousness of the locust mole?

Perhaps…

But since I try to avoid the crowds, perhaps my frame of mind has more to do with the Winter Solstice—perhaps the darkness of these days darkens my mood.  In any case, I’m not alone.  Our statistical elves tell us that many suffer with the holiday blues.

But how could losing a couple of hours of daylight affect us so strongly?  Safe and secure in our warm, well-lit abodes, don’t we find pleasure in the winter’s long night?

For myself, the mystery of the night seems to call to my own depths—so winter only enhances the affect.

Actually, I can’t really call my Solstice mood “grim”; the better word would be “agitated”.  Maybe this feeling of rawness comes from a deep desire for balance of spirit…

I do crave light—but that’s only one part of my desire.  Another side of my spirit desires what is drawn by the deep roots—desires the cave water, desires the rich black earth.

Of course, I could be waxing poetic when the real answer lies in neuroscience.  Maybe the shorter days around the Solstice time affect my brain chemistry.

I don’t wish to throw out science.

However, science can only concern itself with the functioning of the brain; not the functioning of the psyche.  What if changes in brain chemistry actually result from changes in the psyche?

Because I can’t say what the reality is, I will embrace what I see as my best option: the belief that best helps me deal with the holiday season.  That best helps me cope…

…not by telling me to change my brain chemistry, by telling me to lighten up, to be positive, to be of good cheer.  No!–I’ll tell myself that I need this Winter deepening, that I need to descend into the darkness…

…and because of this need, I may snarl and snap at any attempt to make me bright, to distract me with blaring light of Xmas—any attempt to make me more Kringle and less Krampus.

I’ll tell myself that the light must wait ‘til Spring.  I’ll tell myself that, for now, I must spread my roots through this labyrinthine cave—I must, if I’m to sprout into that golden light again.

I find much satisfaction in this belief—it explains me to myself.  Ironically, it may also lessen my agitation…

…as it eases the conflict, the conflict between the desire for light, and the need for dark.

I think this belief could help others as well.  It can bring awareness and understanding, without dispersing with the mystery, the mystery of being human.  So perhaps it belongs in our new mythology

The holidays do usher in the blues for many of us…

…but maybe this belief can give us some relief.  This belief tells us that our blues are just a natural part of life, another phase of the cycle…

Our blues may speak of the desire for light, but our blues may also be telling us that this desire must give way to a greater need—the need to deepen.

By holding this belief, maybe we can even make our blues into a type of pleasure—just as the great Blues masters have done.  We can sit and dine with our dark ghosts…

…instead of trying to evaporate them with the glare of artificial Christmas light.

So to all the sad Kringles out there, I say: embrace your Krampus Solstice.

© 2011, Michael R. Patton
dreaming steps

Maybe the rapture did arrive on May 21st, as predicted by Christian radio host Harold Camping…

If the event went unnoticed…

…that’s because so very few of us made the grade.

If we checked, we might find a slight rise in missing persons reports for that day.  But overall, the population loss was not significant.

We were probably too caught up in our own little worlds to pay much attention to those being caught up.

No, you and I were not among the blessed few.  Now we, the unworthy, will have to redeem ourselves by saving the life of the human race on this planet.

I think the monstrous dragons have already arrived—they are monsters of our own making.  Thus, they will be even more difficult to combat and will become ever bigger the longer we procrastinate.

To paraphrase that famous quote from cartoonist Walt Kelly: we have met the anti-Christ and he is us.

You think you know yourself, but then one day, you look in the mirror and see the mark of the beast.

To be honest, I’m glad we can now stop waiting around and get down to business.  I’ve waited so long for the Apocalypse to arrive…

Years ago, when I was a boy attending Sunday School, we were told it was right around the corner.

Our teacher knew he could always get our attention by talking of the end times.

Scripture seemed to support what he said: all signs pointed to the hell fire of the final days.

With a knowing look, he’d repeat the phrase, “ye shall hear of wars and rumors of war”.

Living under the red cloud of the Vietnam era, we could see that Biblical prophecy was indeed coming true.

Truth is, we boys wanted to witness the Apocalypse.  We wanted the excitement.

We wanted The Four Horsemen to gallop down the main street of our small Arkansas town.

I think Camping, and the many doomsayers who’ve come before him, play off this desire for excitement—a desire shared by those of all ages.  The End of Days would sure beat the tedium of the 9 to 5 routine.

But I also believe that, in general, we feel as if we’re sitting on—or in—a pressure cooker and have been for some time.  We feel that, sooner or later, something’s gotta give…

In such a state of mind, we might secretly wish for the relief that comes when the worst actually does happen.

So perhaps you now feel let down, knowing that the Apocalypse has arrived in such unspectacular fashion.  The beginning of the end has come, but without much relief, without much drama.

Instead of the hoped-for darkness and upheaval, we’re faced with the prospect of rolling up our sleeves and getting down to the serious work of fixing this place—fixing ourselves.

But despite this prospect, I’m glad I wasn’t among the few who ascended…

…because though the end times may seem somewhat tedious…

…I believe the cooker will eventually break open—and maybe sooner rather than later.

It’s not that I like the type of excitement that comes from destruction, no…

…it’s that I’d rather be in the fray than be staring down from above.  I’d rather be doing what I can to help create a positive outcome.

Yes, this may be the End of Days…

…but doesn’t every ending bring a new beginning?

I believe our new beginning will mark an end to some old destructive ways.  But don’t think of me as some Pollyanna—we’ll change because we’ll have to.

© 2011, Michael R. Patton
dreaming steps

Our mythologies tell of a lost golden age…

According to these myths, in the distant past, humankind enjoyed a golden age of perfection.

But of course, such things can’t last.  After the age of perfection, humans descended through ages of decreasing worth, until they finally reached the current time of demise—think of it as an age of lead…

…an age in which mean-spirited men fight over every last scrap.

This pattern of myth continues even today, as we praise the past and curse the present.

Our forefathers now loom as giants.  Even when we acknowledge their faults, time seems to add stature to our historical figures.

However, we may also idealize the relatively recent past.  News anchor Tom Brokaw’s “greatest generation” triumphed during WWII.

In comparison with these golden eras, our present can seem petty, paltry, and base.  Who among our current leaders would we carve into the pantheon of Mt. Rushmore?

I’m reminded at this point of that oft-heard refrain, “When I was a boy…”

When you hear that preamble, you know the speaker will laud times gone by and complain about times present.

But though I’m not nostalgic, when I look backward, the light does sometime seem to have a golden glow…

However, I don’t put too much stock in such visions.  To paraphrase that famous passage in Corinthians: “When I was a boy, I saw as a boy, I thought as a boy, and thus, I made the judgments of a boy.”

I know that the golden glow—though sweet in memory—is but a small sphere surrounded by shadow.

Maybe you’ll say we’ve lost some things of value, as we’ve traveled the path between that past and our present.  I won’t argue with that.  I can think of many changes that haven’t been for the better.

But didn’t that past give birth to this present?  Weren’t the seeds of our current problems back there, just waiting to sprout?

Maybe some of these new problems aren’t so new.  Maybe we just let them go until they got too big.

As we grapple with these problems now, we can sometimes lose track of all we’ve gained in the intervening years.

For these reasons, maybe our golden age wouldn’t look so golden if we could travel back to that time.  Though we might see what we’ve lost, we’d also realize how much we’ve learned since then.

For that matter, if we did visit there—time travel fifty years or a hundred or even a thousand or five thousand…

…we’d most likely find our ancestors waxing nostalgic over an earlier, golden era.

Maybe there was a Garden of Eden—a place of blissful unconsciousness.  But we’ve left that place and, to my mind, it wasn’t so much a matter of being cast out—I think we’re driven to want consciousness, ever greater degrees of consciousness.

For myself, I think I prefer a life in which I strive for peace, rather than an actual life of peace.  Ironic, yes.  But a beautiful irony.

With all this in mind, I say our new mythology should reverse the myth of “The Golden Age”.

Unlike earlier mythologies, we won’t tell ourselves that we’ve lost a splendid age of perfection—an age in which men were like gods and women, like goddesses…

Instead, we’ll proclaim that we’re headed toward a new golden age.

We’ll say that we began as lead, dull lead, in the distant past, and are now continuing the slow, tedious, painful process of refining ourselves.

By holding such a belief, we’d no longer look back with longing toward an imagined loss…

…but instead, direct our energies toward moving forward…

…toward considering the great possibilities…

…toward working hard in the present to achieve those possibilities.

The former point-of-view defeats us; this one gives us hope, courage, and motivation.

© 2011, Michael R. Patton
sky rope poetry

I ask the patient reader to indulge me…

…as I offer the poem below—a poem of my own making—for possible inclusion in our new mythology.

Though the poem isn’t a myth…

I believe it includes qualities needed in any mythology, any religion…

To be clear about what these qualities are:

The poem looks to our past at the same time that it looks toward a possible future.

It considers the soul, the spiritual, while remaining grounded in the necessities of this world.

It offers us a way to deal with the pain of this world.  It also suggests a means for enacting change—change that can lessen that pain.

Without being giddily optimistic, it assures us there’s hope—if we work.

It puts us all on equal footing.  It says we’re all in this business together.  We can’t rise ourselves up by lowering another—we’d just be projecting our inferior self onto someone else.

It asks us to reclaim the shadow.

The poem tells us there can be joy, even in times of sadness.  At the very least, we can appreciate that we’re participating in an incredible endeavor called human life—we’re participants in a great mystery.

But enough with the hyperbolic preamble—I should let the poem speak for itself…
 

PEDRO

Yes, Pedro and I
can still create joy
in these spinning days
of confusion and blood…

While I sing
that child smiles his cracked teeth,
claps his hands, stomps his feet—
I pan for gold
with my banjo.

Yesterday, I took him to Congress
believing we’d at least
have the satisfaction
of feeling superior, upstairs
in the balcony.

But I just kept on seeing us
down below.  So

I brought Pedro back out
to bask in the sun’s rays
and witness the smiles
of the wounded.
No one ever loses his soul—
it’s only misplaced.

Many claim that
many children now
grow up
with their souls
outside their bodies.
But Pedro and I, we both agree:
it’s always been that way.

Still, we’re hopeful fools.
Pedro says
that if enough get mended
the rest just might
click into place.  A chain reaction.
The teeter-totter effect.

To that end,
we spindle invisible projects,
turning the cranks inside our mines,
hoisting up buckets of ash,
all the while searching for
the occasional
jitterbug diamond.

Minuscule, but what can one do?
Our hands seem so small.

The question is:
are we winning fast enough?
A monster
—on the opposite side of the wall—
jacks the odds against us.

But maybe the wall is illusion.
So maybe we can bargain.

In any case, Pedro and I remain
solidly determined
to task happy:
my banjo is banjoy
and Pedro’s diamonds dance
like jumping beans
on his tambourine

to keep our eyes from bruising
when the tears begin to sting.

© 2011, Michael R. Patton
dreaming steps

When I say our new mythology should draw from all sources…

…I mean all sources.

Even from George Costanza.

Yes, that not-so-lovable loser from the TV sitcom Seinfeld.

I’m thinking of the episode in which George decides to go in the opposite direction…

He realizes that, if his entire life has been one big mistake…

…then, he should completely reverse course.  Since his natural impulses always turn out to be wrong, he should go counter to them, he should do the opposite of his normal response.

Instead of trying to hoodwink an attractive woman, he would be direct and honest.

Instead of suffering silently at the movies, he would tell the obnoxious jerks behind him to shut up.

Instead of groveling during an job interview, he would let the big boss know just what he thought of him.

And his new strategy works!  Where “impulse George” failed, “conscious George” succeeds.

Yes, I know that, in real life, this maneuver probably wouldn’t net such immediate results.  But I still think it’s a valid concept.

So then, should our new mythology include this self-help strategy?

Yes—but on a much-larger scale.

At this point in our career—our career as human beings on this planet Earth—we obviously need to go in a different direction.

Consider our history…

We’ve pretty much followed one path—a path of greed, dominance, and destruction…

But now, it looks as though we may have reached a dead end (pun intended).

Up to this point, an empire, a dynasty, a kingdom, a country, a people, a tribe might wonder if it would survive…

But now, we’ve begun ask if we are going to survive.  I mean the big We—the whole human race.

I would say, yes we will—but only if we can reverse field, just as George Costanza did.  Want to return to Eden?  Then go back the same way you came.

Of course, on Seinfeld, George couldn’t maintain his new strategy…

By the next episode, he was back to his old sniveling, conniving ways.  No explanation was given, but none was needed.  We knew George would soon falter, would lose his nerve.

But as I see it, the big We will not only reverse field, but maintain this change of direction.

This isn’t optimism on my part, oh no.  I’m darkly pessimistic.  We’ll make the change and maintain it, because we’ll realize what the alternative is.

If I was an optimist, I’d be saying we’d consciously, willingly make that decision.  But I think we’ll make that choice only when we’re forced to make that choice.

In my own life, I try to make the conscious decision.  The hard decision.  The decision to go against the impulse and follow the intuition—even if that intuition tells me to eat cold soup.  I hate cold soup.

To be honest, much of the time I fail.  I follow my baser angels, not my better ones.

But unlike George, I realize that change—real change—has to happen slowly, in order to take hold.  Change moves at an snail’s creep.

Change may sometimes seem to come upon us suddenly, drastically.  But in such cases, there was usually a long build-up.  Afterwards, the period of recuperation, of healing, may extend for many years.

I’m guessing this human world will experience some drastic changes and events in a relatively short period of time.  Over the next few decades, I’d say.  Man-made changes and events.  Not acts of God.

We’ll crash, then be forced to go in a different direction.  Having crashed (because we didn’t act consciously), we’ll have to work very hard put ourselves back together again.

But we’ll gain much from that work.  We’ll be in much better shape after this transformation.

So maybe I am an optimist.

© 2011, Michael R. Patton
dreaming steps