Stolen from the Gods
I stole a man from the Gods, and I want to give him back. He's bald, and short, and always wears a black sport coat. He stands behind me, precisely six feet to my seven o'clock, just out of sight. And he refuses to go away. I've tried ignoring him, of course. I'll tell myself he isn't there, but it has no affect. No matter how much I distract myself, I can always feel his gaze tickling the back of my neck. Reasoning won't help either. I've tried negotiation to no avail. He just won't budge. It's as if my attempts to be rid of him are almost comical is his eyes. I can't tell anyone about him. As soon as I point him out, they will immediately notice he is there and then they will have the same problem I do. And, I can't even give him back. If I...
Life – As We Know It…
Its hard for me to behave, knowing that one day I am going to die. Every day I spend an hour eating in a small box, an hour playing with my kids in a small-medium box, an hour talking to my wife about my day in small boxes, two hours cleaning or organizing or getting ready for my days in small boxes, three hours driving in a very small box, six hours sleeping in a slightly bigger box, and finally ten hours sitting and working at a desk in another small box. My life, love, connection, exploration, pleasure, challenge, triumph and defeat exist purely in a state of isolation from the diversity and wonder of the world at large. There is a lake high in the Sierras that sits atop a mountain. At its south shore a sheer cliff opens up to a wide open valley. In...
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