An aspect of guilt has come to my attention. The spinning in circles kind of guilt that leaves you breathless but seems to accomplish little. In this aspect it is like the Dervish, whose accomplishments are more in the spiritual side than in the obvious whirling side.
It starts as a guilt over having survived. This is well documented and there's probably a 7th step to work thru it. Nevertheless, it is insidious and pervasive. IN fact you are often told by some well meaning person that "You mustn't feel guilty." For someone who always says "Screw the establishment" this is a red flag to guilt. But it doesn't hold water because you haven't survived any more than your son has survived, or for that matter any one still alive at this time has actually survived in that we all have "Moved on". You have to, because you are alive and "Alive" is change.
So you have to have survived in some form.
There is the Superman guilt over not being a Superman who can somehow make things right. I imagine that Jehovah feels this sometimes. But if you feel that you should be doing more, you tend to do less because less is more. That is to say, that Less is more, somewhere else. See, unless someone spends way too much time thinking, which I would have to concede is all pretty much my son can do.... So if at some point they can unscramble Jon's brains and bring him to some point we'd all recognize, it wouldn't work, because I am not the father he last saw and spoke with any more than he is the same son I spoke to last. So we both have moved on, like a scene fade in a Swedish movie. It's not the same as "Goodbye". But it is a bit of that whenever you part company with someone you love, now...Each day they behead someone or blow someplace up. Someone could decided that brain injured individuals are God's Blight and go behead them all. Yes, it could happen. So each "goodbye" might be, yes, a "GOODBYE".
There's suddenly an awareness that what we leave behind for some future archeologist, some child of my children perhaps, is "what" we were. A bit of pottery might hold some imprint decipherable in some future technology, the sound of the potter having a conversation with people in the room. You just never know what may be a fewmet to some might be a revelation to some other. Best not to start with shit, unless it be compost.
You want the house to be nice, so you work at it. You want money to somehow be in some bank account, so you arrange for it to be there. But so rare the opportunity to leave behind a voice. And then there's the mute. Or the guy with the hole in his throat. A man with a vocalizer spoke to me at the gas station and it took three repeats to make me understand what he was saying and answer intelligibly. What if the ONE uses a vocalizer? It might take so many misunderstandings before the POINT is made. Lots of stuff could happen that didn't make much sense, because as we know, God Said the Word, and the Word was Creation... or some such thing.
So if you take the time to sit and Document Yourself for your future child, perhaps child of your child....to help understand some other Clue you might leave behind... We might be a series of generations of mumblers, leaving behind fragments of expressions trying to explain to a toddler of some 50 years why the earth rocks and why men have knees. The important stuff. By then you are losing the ability to remember the important stuff yourself. IT just starts to remind you of What Dreams May Come and you get to play all the parts. Good for a Movie but kinda sucky for Living Thru.
I threw a loaf of bread out to the chickens today. Jalapeno Cheddar with some mold. I hope the mold isn't psychaelic because for a chicken the world is a bright and colorful place. They focus on just everything and having a hot pepper in your craw could just "bend your mind, man" as a Rhode Island Red might cluck on psilocybin.
In all my childhood dreams I never would have thought of the irony of looking up at the lawn, as I do now. My parents lived in a basement apartment briefly when I was born, so then too I looked up at a lawn. I used to dig holes in the back yard and join them up with tunnels. My dad was upset that I didn't shore them up but I had plans to and they always got shut down before could get the lumber. As a metaphor for life, life proves a difficult metaphor. That's why we tend to use myth. If life is proving difficult to understand, then myth is the perfect way to make it understandable, as long as one understands there is a difference and moves to live life and understand myth.