Quick Prosedy

Sitting in the ampitheater park up on the side of mount tabor while the basketball players play and the bikers pedal past the runners jogging.  Some small child stepped in “Dog Poo!” and his dad keeps saying “walk this way son.”  Up tall flights of stone stairs past the water reservoir with signs saying “anyone who throws such and such into such and some is subject to the maximum whodahum as stated in subject three six one four of the Oregon such and suchamitee”.  Now sitting on green park benches as I said in the ampitheater park of small black porous gravel sprinkled on top by miniature yellow crispy leaves littered in all such corners.  The stage in front of me is backed by a chivalrous row of 12 or so cedars (red or yellow?) that I can imagine project the sound toward the benches:  “Nice acoustics Zarathustra.”  12 mid-height cedars standing to attention like 12 apostles.  Remember how Holden Caulfield was so put off by the 12 disciples.  He says “yeah but they were chosen at random, and all they ever did was get in Jesus’ way.”  I don’t know I mean I like the apostles, sure they’re frustrating like when they argue over who has the bigger biceps but I mean everyone knows they are only human.  As if that was some kind of excusable excuse.  “C’mon man, I’m only human.”  Yeah but the problem is that you are all human… I don’t know.  “Wait just a minute, you expect me to believe that all this misbehaving grew from one enchanted tree?  And helpless to fight it we should all be satisfied with this magical explanation for why the living die and why its hard to be a decent human being?”  Well yeah David Bazan what’s your problem with the myth of the tree and the fruit and the snake I mean its beautiful in a way.  At least its something right?  It’s an explanation.  Take it on faith or don’t take it at all, they say.  Like they say every sort of belief requires big faith whether you’re Richard Dawkins or Joseph Smith himself.  What I do like is when Bazan says well “in what medieval kingdom does justice work this way?”  And that to me is identifiable because you see I have this problem with history she never sat right with me and we haven’t spoken in weeks.  I have this thing like why should I come into this world cursed and broken and without a say, you know?  Guilty until proven otherwise I guess.  But something inside of me has always believed the opposite of everyone, even enemies, even friends, even God:  Innocent until proven otherwise.  You see I entered into this crazy story in the year 1986 when everything’s been pretty darn well established by now, you know?  Its not like there are any original ideas, you know?  Its not like it hasn’t already been tried or written.  If you haven’t read about it yet, that only means you haven’t found the right book, I mean it’s out there somewhere for sure.  And see when I came into this world in 1986… well, see the world is full of mini victories overshadowed by giant history-repeating failures and there’s always the haunting grandfather time wearing suit and a tie up behind the podium with a microphone clipped to his coat pocket everything smooth and black or white ironed and starched except for his hands.  His hands you can’t help but noticing how they are all wrinkled and cracked and worn, they are so full of sins you have no idea the depths of the canyons.  But he speaks into the mike with that ancient southern drawl “and there is nothing new under the sun.”  What?  That’s not even fair.  And I guess that’s what I’m getting at – it just isn’t fair.  When I was a kid I was obsessed with the concept and I don’t think it ever left me.  Of course when you’re a kid, fair only matters so that you can be sure you get yours.  And when I came into this world in 1986, I feel like I was somehow robbed of my portion, you know?  A life where I inevitably make mistakes that have already and will always be made but still somehow I’m supposed to feel guilty about it?  Like I shouldn’t have done those things?  But it was inevitable.  But I could at least feel sorry for doing those things.  Well screw that.  Screw feeling sorry or bad or guilty for the fruit that was already eaten, or even for eating the fruit when it’s the longstanding tradition you were born into.  What a tragedy when people are motivated into good deeds by guilt or shame.  From now on I feel lucky, I feel blessed, but I’ll never feel guilty – for telling the truth or telling a lie or screwing up or succeeding, whatever that means… Traditions die slow, Joe.  When I was three years old I watched the Berlin wall fall down.  And when I was 23 years old I learned about the prejudice and the poverty and the downright unfairness that still goes on everyday between east and west Germany.  We’re always making these little victories and they always pale in comparison.  Which brings to mind Mom Teresa saying no great things are done only small deeds with great love.  I mean the damn civil rights movement was forty years ago and we still sit around making racist jokes.  And yeah, every once in a while I laugh, you know?  It doesn’t matter who or what or why or which color or which nationality or which party there is always the prejudice.  The “guilty until proven innocent” clause.  Man I hate that idea.  We’re all just so done up from the get-go.  But there was this one man who got it right.  Man he really got it right on the freakin nose.  The only thing in the entire universe that’s new and original and worthwhile is this selfless living bit.  Its so gosh-darn ridiculous that it makes sense.  It doesn’t even seem natural.  Deny yourself, live outside yourself.  Its so stupid that it makes me happy, I think.  I just wish people could come to live selfless lives because the love strikes them, or because they exhaust all the other roads to happiness and never find it, but not because they feel obliged.  I oblige you to do nothing son, but I trust the goodness inside you to work its way out – maybe that’s just too optimistic.  Anyway I see how my religion works, it was the history I was born into, choose it or not, and it works for me – but how foolish to spend your whole life convincing others that their birth-clothes are no good in comparison to yours.  Conversion’s such a finkish word, darling.  Work with what you were given, and just as you should never be proud for anything you were lucky enough to be blessed with, like your skin color, or your size, or your smarts, stop feeling guilty for the things you happened to inherit, it doesn’t help the situation.