tell my son: or, zeus! we’re coming after you!

I spend a good portion of my day thinking about what I’m going to tell my son and how. Yesterday, as I was driving to dinner, I thought of something else.

I want to tell him to go through life slowly.

Why? Because I admire those people, the people who take their time as they walk through life.
And when I tell him, I’m going to show the severity of my conviction on my face and my son will turn his head up toward me and listen in tranquil silence. And he will respect and listen to me because I’m going to – I must – be the man I want to be when I have him.

And this is how I spend my days.

As my dad and I were shoveling mulch around the trees a couple of days ago, my imagination started running away. At the base of the maple trees, there are little baby trees that you must cut away before they start stealing a lot of energy from the one you care about. In reality, these saplings die anyway – but what if they didn’t? What if maple trees had a constant war with these offspring and what if these offspring kept coming back bigger and stronger and they started growing faster than their parents and it became a king of a mountain struggle into the highest of heights, by which time there are at least thirty trees growing in one spot?

And what kind of scene would that be? Imagine a tree fifty yards in diameter at its base, which is twisted and gnarled. Had a community of strange creatures evolved up there?

What sustains God from eon to eon? He is completely shrouded in mystery to me.

Yes, this is how I spend my days.