Several lifetimes ago I had the great pleasure of visiting a local watering hole frequented by some of Wellsville’s more colorful Sages. One evening when the Budweiser was especially cold and smooth, a particularly wise old friend shared words of wisdom that have echoed through all my incarnations. “Life is a funny old Raccoon “ he said “it doesn’t travel in a straight line, it spirals up and down, coming back to things you haven’t learned and deepening your understanding of things you thought you knew.”
Well, I had a few years prior paid several hundred dollars for a University grade philosophy class, and in that moment I realized I’d thrown my money away. All my life I had known this particular blue collar bard; why the hell had I paid for sterilized Prometheus, when, for the price of a few rice based brews I could have a master class with a Titan?
This Monday morning, while I walked my rambunctious puppy through my dew soaked yard I caught myself thinking how much more I’d enjoyed this exact experience the day before. Sundays for me are gem days. No work, no worries. No clocks, no scurries.
The pressures of job, kids, deadlines and timelines crashed down on me today like a mallet. Then I remembered that moment in my favorite haunt and dew droplets took on their Sunday glisten. Why would I walk around with Monday eyes when I apply the lens?
That was my lesson for the day and it came with a flood of happy, vibrant memories. If anyone sees Whitesville Johnny, say hi for me. I hope his spiral is more good times than bad. 💫
