Life with the Alligator-Sheep

[H2O Man]

The news over the last 48 hours has put me in a mood best summed up by Jimi's song and a Gandhi quote: “It seems to be so very hard to maintain detachment of mind in the midst of raging fire.” A lot of my associates are feeling anxious about tomorrow's rallies. I'm not …. I am old and far beyond fear for my own well-being. But the Israeli attack on Iran has me concerned for the world my children and grandchild will inhabit when this wrinkled bag of bones and lard gives out, and I enter a different frequency.

The last two days, I watched my grandson while my son did some work on my sister's house. At almost three years of age, he is faster than me. On a walk towards my niece's house, he spotted a rabbit. As it was the buck, it runs a little at a time, to lead potential threats away from its nest. Soon it was leading my grandson down my niece's driveway, so I had to speed up.

Because we have had a heck of a lot of rain, it was an error on my part to think I could run fast. I cannot. My feet flew up shoulder level, and I slide past my grandson. Since pain is more painful at my age, it took me a second to gather my half-wits. My poor grandson was crying at the site of me, and kissed me X3 on my knee. Then he suggested we go blow bubbles.

My granddaughter is almost 8 months old. She lives with my daughter and son-in-law in Europe. We “face-time” almost daily. We have a routine: we say hi, then wave, then clap, then she kisses the camera. Her parents want to live in this country eventually, but not when maga is trying to destroy it. I think they may change their minds about even visiting this year.

As I pour another cup of coffee, I note I will need more cream tomorrow morning. Thus, I head to the grocery store. A nice lady asks if I remember her? I explain that a serious head injury in 2017 damaged my brain's ability to identify some of the faces I have haven't seen since getting out of intense care. She brought up the hunger strike I did years ago, to bring attention to an environmental threat.

On the ride home, I pass some sheep that my grandson had noticed yesterday. He pointed and said, “Dad, look at the alligator!” My boy pointed out they were sheep. My grandson said, “Yeah – alligator sheep.” I think he might have seen some of the people with maga yard signs, for they are indeed alligator-sheep. I see that both my son and daughter have sent me videos of my grandchildren while I was at the store. The very idea of alligator-sheep screwing up the world they inhabit results in an inner change. For a couple of moments, I feel my old self rising to the surface, the same cold focus I had as a young man, having my gloves tied in the dressing room before entering the ring to knock the heck out of some guy who wants to beat me. But the lady at the store's message began to come to mind.

I've been saying “we must rise to higher ground” over and over for the past two weeks, enough to annoy even the most patient of community members. That need is true, for it is the only way we will defeat this beast that threatens us all. That “higher ground” is not external. It exists as a potential within each of us. And it then, and only then, that we can access the Power of the Good Mind that Chief Waterman spoke of, as a community.

My mind goes back to when I spoke at a church in Cortland, NY. I got there early – I have no patience with people who are late, as my children learned growing up – and noticed some frames of old newspaper articles on the wall. They were from the 1950s, when a young minister named Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke there. I knew that none of us were on the mountain top he reached, but we can all be among those thousands of people who answered his call.

On the ride home, I thought of King and Gandhi. While they are among the Great Souls sent to teach us through their sacrifice, and I a common human being, I had to attempt to reach that higher ground, if only temporarily in this struggle for a safe environment. It was on that ride that I thought I would do a hunger strike, starting on Martin Luther King Day, to try to force a state senator to at least meet with the environmental community.

It took a while, but I remembered Rubin telling me in 1973 that with patience, the smallest creature can climb the highest mountain. I ended up speaking to 1,200 people in the capitol building in Albany. I was pretty out of it by that time, feeling like a damp wash cloth tossed on a floor. I spoke off the top of my head, and watching a film of it today, think it was pretty good. But I don't remember it. The only thing that stands out was a lady who must have felt very sorry for me started petting my hair. I looked at her, and she said, “Hi! I'm Debra Winger.” I was too tired to propose to her.

Within an hour after speaking, I encountered the senator, and we had a meeting in his office. If I can do small things, anyone can. Added together, we do big things.