Sunday, July 3, 2011

It’s like I threw together a raft as best I could, under the circumstances, and put it in an unfamiliar river. Some days I feel pretty good. The sky is painted, the water a calm reflection of rippled color. I think, “This is ok. I have everything I need. My live is good.” But always there is an awareness of how tenuous my situation is. One of my lashings could give way, a float could rupture, I used a piece of wood I shouldn’t have. There are ways I could be sunk in an instant. Not to mention what is coming in the water. Rocks under the surface, falls, rapids, wind and rain. I am vulnerable. I don’t have a tight raft. My life is tenuous. There is a continuum that gets bordered by pure wild abandon on one side, and obsession with assuring security on the other. Somewhere between these is a point I have chosen. My own comfort level with risk avoidance and a desire to be able to go with the flow. I have never seen the sense in obsessive preventative measures. There are too many ways I can be disassembled. Chemicals in my food, pollution in my air, Teflon from my frying pan, a virus, a bug bite, a nuclear bomb, a car crash, a bad jar of banana peppers. Terrorists, my government, the raccoon under my porch, a thief in the night. I don’t have the right insurance, the right religion, the right amount of savings in my account. The right retirement plan. I didn’t choose the right career; don’t have the kinds of friends that know the right kinds of people. But I chose this. And I don’t think I want to be more protected than I am. I think I want to go along as well as I can, and when the day is nice, and the spirit willing, and bliss rests on me, I want to be able to say, “This is nice, I have everything I need, and Live is good.”

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