Bones in the Yard

It is with all seriousness that we live our lives and believe in a kind of temporary immortality. All of the world from childhood to old age is ours, or so we think. And it is “thinking” that is the problem that separates us from every living thing around us. We “think” with our enlarged brains that we understand what is happening. We “think” we understand the world and our place in it. We “think” we are separate little islands of living beings that are somehow above other life forms with almost magical powers to alter the world around us. This is all an illusion created by a reality that our brains have constructed for us. We are not higher life forms and we are not separate from the world. We have left the family that exists all around us. That family waits patiently for us to return.

Seeing the world through the lens of time gives me a perspective on the changes that have taken place and what appears to be the direction and ultimate destination of those changes. Through my 72-year lens of time, I have seen a lot.

I have seen my father rush to start servicing an automobile that had just pulled up to Ed’s Phillips 66 Gas Station; as I ride my tricycle inside the warmth of the empty service bay.

I have seen my 7th-grade math teacher burst into tears as they announced on the loudspeaker that President Kennedy had been shot and killed in Dallas.

I have seen my best friend’s face when he came back from Vietnam, “It’s not like they tell you, Lawrence, we shot everything that moved…I don’t know if I can live with what I’ve done”

I have seen my girlfriend dance and laugh to the music of a rock festival, as we kissed the sky and dreamed of making a new world for the child she carried inside. 

I have seen my inspiration, Allen Ginsberg as we shook hands after his poetry reading.  “I love your poetry Allen, I want someday to write and maybe even write poetry.”  He responded with, “You should…I’m just a mere mortal like you and if I can write…you can too”.

The 12-year-old boy who only cared about his dogs has turned into the 72-year-old man who only cares about his dogs. And everything that happened to me in between seems like it was a distraction that I just had to go through. All to bring me to this point and to all of you.

So it’s me and my dogs from here on out. The distractions of living this thing called life are gone. My plan is to go on loving and then just become bones…in the yard.