He told me that he forgave me for killing his god and I shook my head at him. “It is ok, I am not angry with you guys anymore” he said. It is fair to say that back then I was young, dumb and stupid. We, this other boy and I, had just sat through a one hour lecture about art at the Vatican which had prompted a relatively heated discussion about religion.
There were about fifty students or so in the class but I seemed to be the only Jewish kid in it. Or at least I was the only one who was willing to argue with the others and stateÂ unequivocallyÂ that they were wrong, misguided and foolish. A smarter instructor would have taken control of the conversation and shut it down, but ours did not. And so I found myself standing in the middle of the room- trying to calmly respond to a million comments from a million directions.
The boy who told me that I was forgiven was probably trying to be polite but I wasn’t having any of it. I looked at him and said, “When you god comes back I am going to personally see that this time he really dies.” It had the desired effect and he walked away highly insulted and we never spoke again.
The Ghosts of The Past
Old Jack is a sentimental fellow who roams where he will and walks where he might. Sometimes those forays into the darkness and the light lead me places that bring me joy and sometimes they bring me sadness. Sometimes I shake my head and wonder if I had any sense or if I was just an expert at ignoring it. I suppose that depends on which side of the fence you stand upon. Some will call me a prophet and others a fool. But the real question lies in what I call myself.
That is part of why I blog. I write these words here in an effort to gain a better understanding of who I am and what I want. I write these words so that I can leave a legacy for others. I write these words to remind my children that I don’t blog about the times we volunteer at soup kitchens or the moments we spend trying to help those who Â are less fortunate because I want kudos or thanks. Â I mention it so that in the years to come those who follow me remember that we have an obligation to help. I share it here, so that my kids, grand kids, great grand kids and whomever else happens to stumble upon it thinks about giving a hand up to those who have fallen.
I see patterns and possibilities all around me. There are doors that I could open and paths that I could walk down but I am hesitant. I want to carefully consider the consequences and then determine what to do- but life doesn’t work that way. I tell the kids to Trust Me and I go with my gut. Decisions have to be made because we don’t know How Many Some Days We Get and life must be lived.
What A Wicked Tale We Weave
The blog posts have become a collection of links to old posts and thoughts about them. There is a point and purpose and a rhyme and rhythm to this. Part of my journey is documented within these walls and I am trying to create connections between that which was, that which is and that which will be. I look at this quote and my soul is lifted by it:Â Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. ~ William Wordsworth. I ask Do You Live Your Dreams Or Dream Your Life for a reason. I am curious to hear your thoughts and wonder what you will share.
It is why I ask Do Things Happen For A Reason and then return to read it again. I feel hints hiding just out of reach and clues that I can use to gain clarity. Some of these things are trivial and some are important. The kids brought up the house today and asked pointed questions. They remind me that I am the bull in the china shop and while I am confident that all will work out I admit to having some bouts of consternation.
And maybe that is why I come back here in search of the perfect blog post and determined to build connections and community. I look at the stories that I have written and smile. Song Sung Blue and other Colors, Instant Messenger and Timing are good. I see material there that has legs and I see opportunity.
But more than anything else I see ample evidence that I am working hard to try and live my dreams. I am not just writing about it or wasting away hours dreaming of what could be.I am asking and I am doing. The question is not will it happen but when will it happen,
And so dear reader I want to know, are you trying to live your dreams? Do you know what makes you happy? If you are not living your dreams what are you doing about it? Share it with us in the comments.