ascetism vs usefulness

Do not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of much life so. Aim above morality. Be not simply good; be good for something. - Henry David Thoreau

fly you seabird, but remember, everywhere is a place to land

My moods change like the sea, and maybe this storm will rain. There's a place in summer, I can never find. It's the edge of the rain. Leprechauns search for the end of rainbows; I search for the edge of the rain. I want to sail on the knifes edge, with lightning on one side of the mast, and sunshine on the other. I want to see the first drops of rain, to find the edge of the storm. I want to lay my nets along that edge. I want to catch the storm in a net, and tame it. Give it treats when it's good. Pat it on the head. And only let it out when I'm not busy, and have time to throw sticks for it. I want to drag it along behind my boat. I'll unleash it on ports that wont let me anchor. I'll unleash it on bigger boats that laugh at me. I'll turn it loose right above me, and I'll challenge it, and ask it questions and taunt it; I'll tell it I've tamed it. It can do its worst -- I'm impervious. I have my poncho on. My boat was made for the sea, and I was too. My moods are worse than the storm, and I'll scream and that storm will cower in its net. It will be afraid of me. But I'll be nice to it. I'm not bitter about the storm. It's a storm, so it has to rain and thunder all the time, or it wouldn't be a storm anymore. I'm just tired of how long it's lasted, tired of not seeing land, tired of there being no one else out here, on this open sea, no one else chasing the edge of the rain with me.

maybe this storm will rain

Mom's going back to the hospital. Random. I'm thinking about the dolphins I saw on Flipper. They headbutted sharks. I always liked their silver bodies wooshing in clear water, their pointy noses blamming into shark bellies, and those gray hammerheads bleeding next to blue and yellow fish.

I like the way dolphins are always laughing. Smartest animals on earth.

I'm wishing I had an $800 sailboat and enough confidence to sail to warmer waters, to see the dolphins killing sharks.

Who do I tell this to?

PS. It's not that I hate sharks for being sharks. If they didn't do sharkish things, they wouldn't be sharks at all and no one wants to lose their identity. I don't blame them. What I hate is that you can't tackle a shark. You can't use kung fu. It has the advantage, every time. Sharks always surprise you and then you're fighting just to stay alive. They're like a disease that way.

I'd hate to be a lifeguard -- it'd be like being a doctor, but on a beach. Some sunny day, "Ah yes, I'm sorry sir, but there's a shark right behind you. You have six minutes to live, with a 7% chance of survival. There's nothing you can do to defend yourself. We'll wring our hands for you, and maybe say a prayer before that monster drags you down into the gray sea." And then they'll rub some tanning oil on their chest and they'll take off their white coats and they'll climb into their Mercedes and drive out of that parking garage and leave her behind; they'll leave her behind for those sharks, those hungry sharks. And all the time I'm swimming against the waves, knowing I have no hope to save her, I'll feel the sun on my back and I'll think it's ironic that the sun should shine on such a stormy day.

The Marks that Name Us

In a diner. Steaming cups of coffee and a waitress who chews gum. Stereotypical like that, you know, with a jukebox and all. A guy and a girl at a table, watching an unshaven man at the bar. The two are talking in hushed tones, and of course, like the movies, no one finds their collusion at all suspicious. "Do you see his hand? The mark. See it?"

The guy looks, "Yeah I see it. The bear?"
"Everyone says it's a goat."
"It looks like a bear to me."
"But what if it is a goat?"

She thinks a bit, and then, "Do you think he's in a cult?"

He looks at her with one of those looks that judges her for judging people. Ironic, and the realization flashes behind his eyes. He blinks, hides it. She notices the flash, but hides that she saw. They're two people who are friends, who lie to each other with their eyes.

Her eyes are blue. Aren't they always? His are a deep brown, but not inscrutible brown. His eyes are his enemy: they tell all kinds of secrets about him. She knows, and uses it against him. And has for the three months they've been friends.

But this isn't about them. The mark on his hand does look like a bear. Or a goat. Depending on the current conspiracy. Black cats are plentiful in this town, and just yesterday the waitress with the gum found her vanity mirror broken in her purse. She cut her finger on the shards and said "Damn" and blew a bubble. She sees the mark on his hand too.

He pays his tab, with a twenty, puts his hand in his pocket and leaves. Everyone watches him go. They all notice that he's hiding his hand.

"He always walks with his hand in his pocket!"
"Yeah? So do I. Leave him alone. Everyone in this town freaks out when a new person comes. He's probably messed up just like the rest of us."
"But the cats?"
"It's summer so all the kittens are coming out. They've always been here anyway; just everyone's noticing now, now that he's here."
"Ok but everyone knows he talks to Ellen."
"Probably because she's the only person who will talk to him without sounding scared."
"Ok but Pastor said he came into town when her husband was killed."
"Oh, so now he's her husband reincarnated? You don't actually think people come back from the dead do you? Are you Hindu now?"
"NO!" -- and here she looks around ashamed at his coarse joke -- "But Pastor says the dark arts can do things like that."
"Yes, and Jesus did things like that too."
"That's sacreligious."
"So is judging people."
"Oh shuttup, like you're any different. Have you talked to him?"
"No. But I'm inviting him to go climbing on Thursday."
"Ooooh so he can show his hand to everyone at the gym? Or so you can drop him when he starts trying to convert you to witchcraft."
"HE'S NOT" -- he says the next part quieter -- "a witch."
"I don't know. I think you're being stupid. He does talk to Ellen a lot."
"I'm not really worried about it."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
"You don't even like climbing."
"But I could protect you if he tries to cast a spell."

He starts laughing and between gufaws -- and she looks hurt by the laughter -- he manages to spit out: "What, are you going to quote John 3:16 at him? Or are you planning on shouting -- he says this in a evangelistic tone -- "in the NAME of JESUS."

She's mad, and everyone's looking at them. She's red like a cartoon, and she's holding something back. Her head is like a balloon about to explode at her mouth. But he stops laughing in time.

"Sorry. I know Jesus is powerful, but I just don't think Jesus plans on doing whatever you want him to."
"Pastor says whatever we ask in faith will be ours if we just believe."
"Which is why your mom is still sick..."
"Pastor says I just need to keep having faith, and she'll be healed."
"What if he wants her to die?"
"She won't. The whole church is praying."
"Are they? Because they always tell me they're praying for me, and I still can't walk."
"You just need to have faith."
He looks annoyed, and lashes back, "Yeah, and maybe I just need to get up in front of church and whine like your dad does every Sunday."

She gives him this self-pitying look, sort of like nurses give to their patients, as if they will "forgive that insult, because you're sick and you need me."

"I'm not a little kid. You think my accident means I need you."

She smiles at him sweetly. She's counting her money. She puts a few bills on the table with some coins and pulls his wheelchair away from the table. She still has that nurse-look and he's peeved at it. He wheels himself through the door and bumps down the steps to the street.

Their breath freezes like thoughts in a comic strip. He's still wheeling himself and she's pretending to push. If anyone sees them they'll pity him and applaud her.

-----------

At a climbing gym. He's in a wheelchair, and he's belaying a teenager on the wall. He doesn't look at all angry that he can't climb anymore. He has peace in his eyes. The guy with the mark on his hand stands next to him. He's laughing nervously. "I think I should start on an easy one -- Just to warm up.
"Yeah, that's what I used to do. I'll get you up on the wall as soon as David is done."
"Ok. So you just use your legs to go up, and your hands are just to hold you there?" He pantomimes as if he's climbing a wall, like he knows what he's doing.

A couple of the staff watch from a distance as the guy with the mark ropes in. They talk quietly as if they expect him to fly to the top of the wall. The guy in the wheelchair is watching them and thinking, "If he could fly, why would he rope in?"

----------

"How was climbing with the witch boy?"
"He's not a witch."
"Why's he hide the mark on his hand then?"
"Probably because everyone judges him based on the mark before they get to know him."
"Did he try to convert you?"
"No, turns out he's a normal guy though."
"Mike said he practically flew up the wall" -- she snickers.
"Yea, turns out he ran track in high school. He's built for climbing. He's really strong."
"Oh did you think he was cute?"

He throws her a look and it occurs to him that he doesn't like being around her. "It's those damn blue eyes," he's thinking.

"He's coming over tonight. Come over for dinner."
"Shouldn't you two have some time alone?"
"Oh please. My parents are cooking and everything. David's coming too."

"My parent's didn't like that you took him climbing."
"Your parents don't like me anyway."
"Yes they do! They're always asking when you're going to come over."
"You never invite me."
"You're always too busy. And when you're free you're hanging out with witches."
"He's NOT --"
"I'm talking about Ellen. Chris told me he saw you and her at coffee."
"Does that make you jealous?" -- he's testing the waters.
"No" -- he's shot down -- "I just find it weird that you hang out with Ellen when everyone knows she's a Wiccan."
"Her mom was Wiccan, but she doesn't practice."
"You realize that she has a generational curse on her. Your children will have rashes on them if you marry her."
"Ok, but she has a choice. And she chose not to practice Wiccan, so there's no curse on her."
"Is that why everyone likes her so much?" -- she's being semi-sarcastic here. The thing about Ellen is she's hilarious, so people love to be around her, even though they worry the whole time that someone will see them. Ellen has no real friends, and people avoid her in public. Some say she carries a curse that repulses people, even though everyone knows she's popular.

"Would it bother you to know that I was at her house last night? With Micah."
"What!? Who's Micah?"
"Micah is his name. Funny that you knew he was a witch but didn't know his name."
"What were you doing there?"
"We were playing cards and drinking tea."
"Just tea?"
"Yes. Just tea. Ellen showed me her horses. Did you know she's been riding since she could walk?"
"Riding brooms?"
"What is your problem? You talk bad about her, but she only says good things about you. Who's the sinner now?"
"What good things does she say about me?"
"She says you're really loyal to your church, and that you have a servant's heart."
"How would she know?"
"Apparently she's psychic."
"Probably."
"No, ok you know what, let me tell you what she told me last night. Ellen and I got talking about her mom's Wiccan. Turns out Ellen doesn't have anything to do with it, and gets into spiritual warfare all the time with her mom. Yea, like 'in Jesus' name' spiritual warfare. Turns out Ellen knows Jesus. But she doesn't go to church because people at church always make her really uncomfortable. People like you. Why don't you give someone a chance before you blow them off."
"She's not a Christian if she's given up meeting with believers. Paul made it clear that we have to love each other or else no one will know we're Christians."
"You're unbelievable. You're soo... blind. You can see Micah's mark, but you can't see how uncomfortable you make him by staring at it. You can hear about Ellen's mom, but you can't hear the lonliness in Ellen's voice. You don't even care do you? You just want to be a Christian so you can go to heaven. Do you even want to know Jesus? Some people do. And most of them don't go to church."

He has a funny look on his face.
"What?" she asks.
"I just realized I was asking myself the same question."