Man after Sunday Evening Practice, when asked, said he's been feeling fine. "I can't see, and have plenty of aches and pains, but" -- pointing to his head -- "am fine. I see clearly," he said, "but this body that allows me to see is falling apart."
An interesting point of view -- that which is seen by that which is seeing is just fine, but that through which the seeing is accomplished is breaking down and tumbling into blurry impairment.
Tonight is the first debate between presidential candidates Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump.
The parallel between the comments of the man who leaves for Thailand for winter hiatus and the two combatants for high office is that while democracy is still seen and held as a lovely possibility for our purposes of living fairly and equitable with each other, the people that purport to embody that prospect are often failing and unfathomable examples of who will oversee and facilitate democracy's aging and frail body.
So too, this body, typing these words, seems to be poised at precipice of high and treacherous cliff, looking both ways, as if to step forward to continue along the trail reaching its edge -- only to have its mind realize that any advancing step would be a compromising step threatening to hurl the observer into an observed space with no prospect of continuing as that which does the observing -- not with knowing and relatable sight.
We, as a people and as individuals, seem often to be at that place without knowing it. Living in the world is a precarious hike. There are myriad round acorns on descending trails for a hiker to navigate, step around without rolling and falling and banging bottom on dry waterless root-grabbing ground.
We arrive at surprise landings so quickly we hardly remember being anywhere else than where we wind up after falling down. That happened to the person ahead of me yesterday. Pain and slow healing is the route now going forward.
The world is a precarious hike, indeed.
Still, we lace up scuffed boots, grab walking sticks, and set out, over and over -- the mountain continually issuing invitatory onto its wonder-filled zig-zag hollows and crossings and ascents. The white dog, on constant search for tracking smells and throwing sticks, a true and ready companion.
As for that other, more Kabuki event, the debate tonite, with enormous audience watching and waiting for knockout punch or salient slam amid thin expectation of substantive vision sighting the journey that stretches ahead of us -- we will do our best not to trip and fall into despondency or cynicism at the confusing map we've been handed at this time at this season at this most interesting and perilous forked trail leading to unseeable outcome.
It is a wee cold this morning.
Autumn is trying out sweatshirt and windbreaker. Windows are closed. The sun porch plants shiver. Finger tips are warned not to touch unexpecting skin with their suddenly icy centigrade.
Late September slides.
Here we go!