Summer of 74

The story, the one I was sucked into telling the class as if it had a vacuum hose attached, was simply an isolated incident along the path of the broader epic. It always feels like a chapter in that story rather than a passing paragraph. After all anyone can say, ‘I worked apples the summer of 1974’ without the back story of exactly HOW one came to that predicament. Consider (almost) any song, poem, narrative or movie and a microscopic attention to detail, the significance of the minutiae shines through the fog like a beacon, a frame seemingly frozen in time. And from there we get to take a cleaner, less biased, sometimes brutally honest assessment of how it came to be, its temporal power, and what action to spurred us towards. One moment in time.

And please remember dear reader, that the theme was time. The elasticity of it, its chaotic non-linearity, as well as our role, our part in the eternity sequence. There is a reason each of us are here. Our search for meaning never ends. The importance of the now cannot be overstated. But what about the ‘then’? 

Stories, tales, sagas, fables, myths, instructions and warnings have been socially transmitted since our favorite gathering spots were campfires instead of micro breweries or town halls. Furthermore, whether banging on a hallowed-out log, tweeting or carrying a hand made poster in a protest march,  the message reminds us that our search is for meaning, to move one step closer towards the reason(s) for our drumming or texting. 

I have something to say, a story to tell, a song to sing. It has great meaning to me, some cosmic connection in this magical metaphor. Like a dream, it unfolds under the scope of analysis, wanting only resolve. My main responsibility in this context (perhaps my reason for being) is that I must honor the time and place, as well as the players, involved. I must tell the story well enough so that others will invite it into their souls and re-broadcast, share, with those interested members of their tribe. And I assure you this (for once) has nothing to do with politics. 

Under this scrutiny and loaded down with this awesome responsibility, one could easily, and correctly, say that every moment, every act, all interactions, satisfy the requirement of this criteria. Consider one simple but successful conversation where a single negotiation settled a complex issue. Have you ever had your day turned 90 degrees as the result of the smile from another? Did you sufficiently probe the depths of your emotions after an un-publicized good deed? Does that glow when less fortunate others are assisted, warm your soul? How do you greet change? Are all people in your life’s current sphere here for very specific reasons, or is this nothing more than random chance, happenstance and chaos theory?

I suppose I could drag out the pre-story and play it as a prequel of sorts, but this so far has played out on a linear timeline. Today I wonder if peak consciousness is the meaning. If all that has gone down prior to this day has created a foundation of materials necessary to finally, at last, build that thing of value that my spirit has designed and soul sponsors and supports. 

Maybe the reason, the meaning and the goal are all here just awaiting the flash of inspiration to proceed. Proceed perhaps as planned, or on a wild, naked ride of uncertainty, change, freedom, faith and courage. 

I worked apples the summer of 1974.