When I was married, I used to often hear others tell each other to just wait. I will hang myself with my own rope. That day may come, either despite myself or because of myself. That day will not come without me having given that hanging due consideration.
John Lennon is claimed to have said that one can only be at the top of one's game for ten years. Perhaps negative thinking got him killed. Mick Jagger said he would rather be dead than singing I Can't Get No Satisfaction at 45. Perhaps that sort of thinking got him worse. Bill Gates purportedly said something to the effect that no one over the age of 30 ever had a good idea.
For decades I have concerned myself with not letting my star burn too soon. I fear peaking my trajectory too early because I fear having to watch my star burn out. Perhaps Mr. Kennedy, like Mr. Lennon, caused his own assassination because he preferred to burn out, rather than fade away. Perhaps Mr. Young is fading away with us because he sang of his fear.
I fear being the sort of person that Meryl Streep so elegantly played in her role as Mrs. Thatcher. That fear has only increased.
I used to find Ms. Streep very frustrating. I recall sitting on the floor of the Rustler Lodge in late 1986 with a group of my co-workers. I write this in Hurricane, feeling more like St. George.
In Alta, we were preparing to watch one of Ms. Streep's movies. The VHS tape in, we were waiting for the movie to load while I loudly complained to anyone who would listen that all Ms. Streep can do is cry. I continued, every role she played was the maudlin, struggling femail. The movie loaded and in the opening shot of the opening scene, Ms. Streep appeared on screen crying.
She has come into her own. I love watching Meryl Streep movies. That wasn't always the case.
Imagine a movie director opening a hotel room door naked as you stood outside. He invites you in. Ms. Streep would not have entered. Then again, Ms. Streep might point to you the times she has metaphorically entered that hotel room. We all have. Should we?
My adolescent politics formed gradually. I don't recall supporting Mr. Carter. I was mostly amazed that for two years Mr. Ford had reigned when no one wanted him. Before I was old enough to vote, I supported Mr Reagan's first national term. I supported his second term. Was I wrong?
Mr. Reagan emobodied the cowboyish exuberance of what makes US great and dangerous. I was told once by a retired Marine that a drill sergeant impressed upon him the importance of never doing nothing in combat. Doing nothing, or so he said, will get you killed.
America has always embodied 'do something'. I often feel the need to be doing something, one reason why I need meditation. The American Century is over. The Chinese Century may be upon us. The onus is on us.
Shall we embrace our century with grace, poise and less pride, while never ever forgetting those who gave their lives so I may write this, so we may breathe? Will we mature? Can we grow?
Sometimes sitting by and doing nothing is the best course. Today's youth might appreciate that. America should stand by. America should wait. America has an incredible, immeasurable amount to learn from other peoples. We have a tremendous amount to give. There is an unlimited amount of kindness to be done. Giving unwisely can do more damage than giving nothing, doing nothing.
A Michigan State professor wrote a book on China's economy. In the Freakonomics I heard, she noted that, besides America, no other country in the world feels the need to show others the way. My impression of the American need to help others, show them the way, reshape them in our image, is that we are a lost nation.
People, myself included, perhaps myself particularly, define ourselves by trying to make others what we like to think we are. We create our identity by telling others what they should be or how they should act, trying to shape them in our mold. A healthy nation, like a healthy person, lets each be what or who each ought to be. The days of the White Man's Burden ought to have ended long ago. The days of the white man's gain, by learning from non-whites, might be dawning. Maybe.
I can see myself rising to fame, if not fortune. After that rise, I can more clearly see myself fading into the shadows. Is now the time to step into a different limelight? Is 15 minutes of media fame worth the price? I have never thought so. I have repeatedly pushed that ship back out to sea, often unconsciously or because others wanted the mass limelight. I want something that will stand the test of time. My reluctance to step up has impeded progress. Too many have suffered for too long.
For decades I have suggested that the harder path is often the better. A country music song was made with lyrics to the effect that the harder path is always better. I never said that. Often the harder past is better, not always, maybe not even usually.
There is an exception to every rule, even the rule that there is an exception. There is a rule to every exception. Every mountain erodes with time. The longer one waits, the softer the butter becomes and what once required a hot knife to easily slice the butter might only require room temperature.
I've been led to believe Mr. Jobs used to claim that he felt like I was the knife, and he the cutting board. Dr. Freud said that no male becomes a man until his father dies. Dr. Jung said there are many forms of death. I agree with Drs. Freud and Jung, more the latter. Recently, I realised that I only lost my virginity after my mother left.
When, how, where Mr. Jobs became aware of me is unclear. To what extent he became aware might be an example of others knowing us better than we know ourselves. Mac is a nickname. Guy is a given name. Guy Clark is one of my favourite country music lyricists. Initially he was not a singer. I wonder why he waited. Room temperature.
Is Mac the Knife a metaphor for the ability of the common person to cut through the chatter, the nonsense? Can a populist knife slice through rhetoric, and the din of the crowd, like butter? Best if that knife, and the butter, are room temperature.
Is now the time? We will never know until we do. I know I no longer wish to stand in the shadows.
Chance has had her turn.
As long as the roots are not severed, all is well. And all will be well in the garden.
so many dead, so little done
