The Doctrine of Life

He sat hunched over the open magazine, three more waiting for perusal in a stack nearby. He felt very studious there in the high school library, though this was a study of his own volition. His previous passions had also consumed him: Dumas and 19th century French authors, economic theories and the stock market, the life of Napolean. Now it was the Beatles and their legend upon which he grazed. These first breaking stories of Beatlemania fascinated him.

Just around the corner was the hallway leading to the gymnasium. The Coke machine there was a gathering point and a giggling gaggle of girls arrived. The sound of the girls' voices tripped the boy's radar and he looked up to listen. They were cheerleaders. And they were excited.

The talk was of boyz. It was not the words but the sound of their voices that heralded a hope and an eagerness for life. Life was to be seized and its treasures were not to be denied. They were discovering themselves, moving forward. The world is many things but life is always a social game in the end. Face it - or be left behind.

At that moment, the boy's folly was undeniable. He considered all the false refuges: how men had created money to buy off their loneliness, how wars were waged to create a sense of purpose, to create any world where women did not matter. But no treehouse was safe. Oh, he and his ilk would try to convince themselves of their happiness, but each secretly wished to escape.

The world - he saw now - was nothing more than the extension of the personal lives of its inhabitants. To straighten that out, to make that a success, was the only true path. He could create all the outward achievements he wanted, none would matter. Only pyrrhic victories lay ahead for the boy - and he knew that. A few empty pats on the back were better than nothing. Maybe some would even think he was somebody.


But in this moment, with the enthusiastic clamor of the girls ringing in his ears, the scorching pain and anguished regret was unbearable. It was a nightmare from which he could not wake. He had chosen wrong. And on that path, nothing could be salvaged. In his prison of shame, the bitter lyrics of the song most feared came back to him:

Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger,
An endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower,
And you it's only seed.

It's the heart, afraid of breaking,
That never learns to dance.
It's the dream, afraid of waking,
That never takes a chance.
It's the one who won't be taken,
Who cannot seem to give.
And the soul, afraid of dyin',
That never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely,
And the road has been too long,
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong,
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows,
Lies the seed, that with the sun's love,
In the spring becomes The Rose.

"There are three of them, and Alleline."

Those were the words of Control, head of the Circus (British Secret Service, so named because of its address), speaking of a new power clique formed around a mysterious new Russian source of "gold dust". But there was a mole in the Circus! Five possible suspects were outlined and aliased with occupations in the children's poem "Tinker, Tailor". But now Control was dead and with him went any pursuit of the mole. Until one day, a "scalp hunter" returns from the field with a story that could "change all their lives"... "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy" is John Le Carre's masterpiece of spy fiction. Only it doesn't read like fiction. A former member of the intelligence community, Le Carre brings no 'Bondian' exploits here but a messy web of psychological intrigues to be deciphered with research, deduction and wits. Little pieces of information are assimilated until finally a clear picture emerges. But it's not just the realism that makes this so great. It's because Le Carre asks why. Why does one become a spy? What things in a person's make up draws him into a secretive world? Where is the line drawn to where the end no longer justifies the means? Le Carre mulls all these things as he takes us on a tour of the "secret world". Nothing is black and white, there is heroism and villainy on both sides - as is in the real world. There are some moments in film you never forget. One of mine was watching what was to be the trapping of the mole and his revelation. I too was nervous as they made the final preparations to flush him out. As if I were truly there, a million things were running through my mind on what could go wrong. The tension was overwhelming and I was wringing my hands...and then it all happened. I also have a spot in my heart for the romantic side of the spy game. I spoke of Sidney Reilly in a previous post, the inspiration for James Bond. Reilly was a man with the vain hope of manipulating the world to his satisfaction. But being such a master of intrigue he thought he could make it happen. Ian Fleming mythologized Reilly into a person who walked among us but lived in a different world. With the dull, boring lives most of us lead, the idea of life being filled with excitement and adventure is intoxicatingly alluring. "Who on earth do you think you are? A superstar? Well, right you are!"-John Lennon, "Instant Karma"

A Treatise on Treason

"The shepherd drives the wolf from the sheep's throat, for which the sheep thanks the shepherd as his liberator, while the wolf denounces him for the same act as the destroyer of liberty."
- Abraham Lincoln

That quote alone greatly raised my esteem for our 16th President. It's also a great starting point for describing the decay of our country. Many people use the same words in their arguments, but the meanings are opposite. Both the sheep and the wolf cry out for liberty but the first wants the freedom to live and the second the freedom to kill.

You can see struggles like these in our political battles. There are those who want freedom from religion and those who want to be free to force their religion. There are those who want to be free from pollution and those who want to be free to pollute. And there are those who seek equity in our workplace with rules for safety and wages and those who wish to be free of those safeguards.

As I've stated before, you cannot serve your country if cannot serve the truth. When the greatest ship in the world has its hull pierced, the passengers fall into two groups. The loyal group loves the ship truly and speaks out, calling for its repair. The selfish group loves riding on the ship only and decries anything that takes from their enjoyment. They call the first group "traitors" for saying their ship is anything but perfect.

The countries that have risen to greatness did so by serving the truth. Ancient Rome disdained the tyranny of an emperor and rose to great power. And then backslid into the corruption of an all-ruling power. Had they kept serving the ideals of a free republic, who knows what may have happened. And as we now turn our backs on our freedoms, that same question will be asked of us.

Today we stand with a President as a traitor. How can a man lie to his country, spill the blood of his fellow citizens, bring terror to the world, and call himself loyal? These are dark times indeed. To fix this we must come clean. Admitting we are wrong will not destroy us, it will heal us. But to not do so is fatal - and treasonous.

The Gnawing

I suppose from the outside I am very much a stereotypical "abode challenged" individual. I can certainly be seen talking to myself, my eyes are distrustful and fearful and I have a frown for everyone I meet. Most of the time the homeless are portrayed as pretty scary people and I could fit into that category too with my hair trigger temper and frayed nerves. But I also realize most people put into my situation would fare far worse than I.

It's the "missing" that eats on me the most. Missing Debby and missing me. I saw part of a concert on TV from a few years ago combining Earth, Wind and Fire with Chicago. I wish I could have seen more but the few songs I did catch were magic. These were songs I'd heard all my life but had never seen performed. I was insanely jealous. There was no phoniness or acting, just performers completely comfortable in their own skin enjoying themselves. Man, it was great.


I love healing. A doctor heals one at a time but a song heals forever. Even if it cost me my life, I would gladly swap it to have contributed just one of those great songs. That is my one wish. Perhaps there are others out there like me, lacking the moral courage to follow their dreams, walking around with the talent of those I saw onstage. If so, I can guarantee you it's gnawing at them.

Seven Mysteries of Your Life

When I was a kid there was a bit we'd use if someone asked us a question we didn't want to answer. "I don't know," we'd reply, "make it one of the seven mysteries of your life." Where this came from, I have no idea. But there seemed to be some implied understanding each person had seven mysteries in their life to bear as a matter of consequence. I always liked that concept and I never forgot it. Plus it works great as a smart ass answer.

Here are a couple of my mysteries. I'll post more if I live that long.

The Boxer.Some things resonate with us even if we don't know why. A story I once read in a magazine haunts me to this day. It was a profile of an up and coming boxer, perhaps the best in the world in his class. As he worked his way up through the ranks, it was evident he was simply on a different level than his opponents. Even as he neared the top, he kept winning and finally he got his shot at the champ. It was to be his moment of vindication at long last, he believed. But he lost.

The bubble had been popped. Without his all-conquering belief, he was no longer the same person. The story told of the plane ride back with his "specialness" gone. He had to have that ego boost he was the best in order to perform. That ego trip was over, thus so was his career. A fatal character flaw or was he meant to be something else all along? Regardless, I have never forgotten him.


The Magic Spot.This is a true mystery. It's hard to even hazard a guess what happened here. It's not something I've talked about because what's the point? Sort of like seeing a UFO, to talk of it only brings grief. But this was real and it happened.

I was on a boy scout trip and we went to some land owned by a scout master or someone. It was great. We were out in the boonies and left to explore on our own. Eventually I found myself alone in a place of very sandy soil and some very thick trees. At the bottom of the trees was debris wrapped around from what had to of been large amounts of rain water gushing through. For some reason, this fascinated me. "Is this real?" I remember thinking. And then I began to realize I was in a special place.

Never in my life have I found a place for me in this world. I'm not complaining, it's just a fact. But there in those trees I was home. It was a sense of euphoria I had not felt before or since. I had been in the woods and whatnot before but never did I experience this. It was like returning to the Garden of Eden. There was something so right about being there. I was rejoicing and filled with wonder. Truly, I was sitting in paradise and no longer of this earth.

When I heard the call to leave I was crushed. Heartbroken, I reluctantly trudged my way back into the sorrow of the real world. I had been embraced by that mystical spot and it was like leaving family. As I think back now, that short time may have been the happiest moments of my childhood.

Every Day is the Fourth of July

The quotes a person picks to, um, quote are oftentimes an insightful peek into a person's thought process. There seems to be two types of people in this country: those who love it and those who love raping it. Some love both but sooner or later you gotta pick one. Both claim to "love" their land.

Anyway, here are a few select quotes from the ages of true patriots:

"As Mankind becomes more liberal, they will be more apt to allow that all those who conduct themselves as worthy members of the community are equally entitled to the protections of civil government. I hope ever to see America among the foremost nations of justice and liberality."
- George Washington

"The government of the United States is not in any sense founded on the Christian Religion."
- George Washington

"In every country and every age, the priest had been hostile to Liberty."
- Thomas Jefferson

"Money, not morality, is the principle of commerce and commercial nations."
- Thomas Jefferson

"The natural progress of things is for liberty to yield and government to gain ground."
- Thomas Jefferson

"Any society that would give up a little liberty to gain a little security will deserve neither and lose both."
- Benjaman Franklin

"Liberty means responsibility. That is why most men dread it."
- George Bernard Shaw

"If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear."
- George Orwell

"The shepherd drives the wolf from the sheep's throat, for which the sheep thanks the shepherd as his liberator, while the wolf denounces him for the same act as the destroyer of liberty."
- Abraham Lincoln

"So you want this fucking job?"
- John Kennedy to Barry Goldwater after being informed of the Bay of Pigs disaster

The Unspeakable Things

"...Germany, considered the height of human intellect, bred a Nazi culture that used its "wisdom" to carry out the most unspeakable atrocities..."

Each soul is driven beyond all constraint to express itself. For it is our soul that concerns each of us the most. No soul can stay unknown.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She had "returned to the fold". The 'lost weekend' was over. She had been granted guarded forgiveness and was now expected to return the favor with proper behavior and a pound of flesh. Her parents, she thought, never fully trusted her again. She had once been the golden child - cheerleader, homecoming queen, wife - all as it should have been. Then a snake whispered in her ear.

Janitor Man. Everyone knew him as that. He was the devil that led her astray, she said. He'd even had the gall to contact her again, sending her notes over the years and a book supposedly written in her honor. She had properly disregarded them all. "Sick and pathetic," she spoke of him. But her other feelings for him she could never mention - those were unspeakable.

It was time to tow the line. She would dutifully speak of the greatness of God, her parents and the world. Most of all, she vehemently proclaimed her happiness. Having allegedly seen the error of her ways, she would build her house now, the one she had torn apart before. But truth was that hope was long gone. Her home would only be on the outside - that too was an unspeakable fact.

"You can't do too much for your children." Two children, a girl and a boy, became her life. Thank God she could take the focus off herself! She was determined to be the perfect mother. Showing a devotion to be admired by all, she found a role where she could hide. The feelings of unmutable sorrow, of dreams dying and crying out for help, of a suffocating prison of lies - those feelings must be pushed aside! She had a family depending on her now, such inconvenient truths are unspeakable.

Then the Unspeakable happened.

The news ushered in her darkest hour. The wailing was uncontrollable, terrifying to see. In the depths of Hell she stood, all her buried lies revealed by howling flames. God's retribution at last. To nought could she appeal her fate. Her son was dead: suicide. He too had lived in a prison of lies and saw no way out. He was not the perfectly Godly person he was expected to be. But he must let no one know, such revelations were unspeakable...


She drowned in the nights, no solace found. She would accept any crumb God had to offer; her surrender unconditional. But God cannot hear what is not spoken. Forced by fear, she wandered back to a time long ago yet always near. Once more she re-lived the parting words of the Janitor Man, words branded upon her soul:

He had wanted her know how meeting her had touched him. "...Anyone can say the words, but when it comes from somebody you respect-" That's when she looked up at him - shocked. Crushed, he then realized how much of his admiration he had held back. Scrambling, he continued, "You are greatness, Debby. Don't let anyone tell you differently. You are a unique and special person. You may think I don't know you-" She remembered his easy smile, as a child who found a friend. "-but I've always known you. I can't get enough of you. But the way you treat yourself - when you say you have problems selling yourself short - that's an understatement! What you do is criminal. It's a crime against God, against nature, against yourself. Until you stop cheating yourself, you will always be a criminal. So, yeah, all your family and anyone else you got hoodwinked will say what a good girl you are, but we'll know differently. We know, don't we, Debby?"

_________________________________

So I just got to tell you, Goodbye