City Fathers
It is now the end of September and the weather is beginning to change here in Southern Utah.
When I was a young man winter did not affect me so adversely. But when I was about 40 years old I spent a winter working on a drilling rig in Wyoming, and got chilled to the very bone, to the very marrow of my bones. And since that time my body and my mind have had an aversion for the winter cold, and for the oilfield and the petroleum industry in general. Why would an artist go to work in the Wyoming oilfield in the middle of winter? Clearing my throat, well, call at midlife crisis, or desperation, whatever it was it was one of those things that if you had to do over again you wouldn't.
It is damp and cold today and has been raining all-night, a slow steady drizzle, the kind of raining that the desert loves.
I went down to my favorite spot by the river again yesterday, it was a cool blustery day with the sun coming and going from behind clouds. It's usually wonderfully quiet their, usually. Yesterday was one of those unusual days which are becoming far too usual these days when the tourists flock into the area with their jeeps, motorcycles and RVs. They swarm like a plague of noxious giant insects, making loud horrible, screaming, roaring noises in the beautiful quiet desert and hills. They are never quiet, when their machines are not making offensive noise their body openings are, they're loud profane talking there ill mannered unruly children, screaming, even their minds make offensive noises.
But the city fathers do everything they can to encourage them to visit here, the police very seldom inforce traffic regulations except against the local people. They want to foster a reputation of friendliness towards all tourists so they wink at all the illegal vehicles with huge monster tires, noisy straight pipes and mufflers, rude noxious behavior and flagrant disregard for the rules of the road. But if your a local you better walk a straight and narrow line because if you don't you'll be paying a nice fat fine. I've never much liked the local politicians, there stupid, disgusting slobs.
That's life in these here United States, and I am surprised that at my age I haven't come to more graciously accept this type of thing. I realize it would be better if I could simply accept the fact that we will never have peace in this world no matter how hard we try unless we can enter that secret spiritual place within, which I have been trying to reach for years. I believe that if we can attain spiritual peace then that grasping for worldly peace will cease. And all those negative feelings towards noisy people will also cease and in their place simply compassionate understanding. But believe me it's much easier to attain to compassionate understanding while sitting here writing in the quiet of my living room than it is while riding my bicycle on a very narrow road while 36 jeeps with huge wheels and extremely large noisy motors are coming up from behind, with only inches between us as they pass.
As for the city fathers and businessmen, I realize we should have compassion even for them.
When I was a young man winter did not affect me so adversely. But when I was about 40 years old I spent a winter working on a drilling rig in Wyoming, and got chilled to the very bone, to the very marrow of my bones. And since that time my body and my mind have had an aversion for the winter cold, and for the oilfield and the petroleum industry in general. Why would an artist go to work in the Wyoming oilfield in the middle of winter? Clearing my throat, well, call at midlife crisis, or desperation, whatever it was it was one of those things that if you had to do over again you wouldn't.
It is damp and cold today and has been raining all-night, a slow steady drizzle, the kind of raining that the desert loves.
I went down to my favorite spot by the river again yesterday, it was a cool blustery day with the sun coming and going from behind clouds. It's usually wonderfully quiet their, usually. Yesterday was one of those unusual days which are becoming far too usual these days when the tourists flock into the area with their jeeps, motorcycles and RVs. They swarm like a plague of noxious giant insects, making loud horrible, screaming, roaring noises in the beautiful quiet desert and hills. They are never quiet, when their machines are not making offensive noise their body openings are, they're loud profane talking there ill mannered unruly children, screaming, even their minds make offensive noises.
But the city fathers do everything they can to encourage them to visit here, the police very seldom inforce traffic regulations except against the local people. They want to foster a reputation of friendliness towards all tourists so they wink at all the illegal vehicles with huge monster tires, noisy straight pipes and mufflers, rude noxious behavior and flagrant disregard for the rules of the road. But if your a local you better walk a straight and narrow line because if you don't you'll be paying a nice fat fine. I've never much liked the local politicians, there stupid, disgusting slobs.
That's life in these here United States, and I am surprised that at my age I haven't come to more graciously accept this type of thing. I realize it would be better if I could simply accept the fact that we will never have peace in this world no matter how hard we try unless we can enter that secret spiritual place within, which I have been trying to reach for years. I believe that if we can attain spiritual peace then that grasping for worldly peace will cease. And all those negative feelings towards noisy people will also cease and in their place simply compassionate understanding. But believe me it's much easier to attain to compassionate understanding while sitting here writing in the quiet of my living room than it is while riding my bicycle on a very narrow road while 36 jeeps with huge wheels and extremely large noisy motors are coming up from behind, with only inches between us as they pass.
As for the city fathers and businessmen, I realize we should have compassion even for them.
posted by walter washco at 1:03 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home