Book of Rules

176.

While the common people like you and me
we'll be builders for eternity.
Each is given a bag of tools,
a shapeless mass and a book of rules.

The key elements of the Heptones seemingly fatalistic rock-reggae tune plays in my mind as I make the hour drive from Reno to Fallon. I consider the authors intent on his poetic celebration of the obvious and its possible message of hope to those willing to risk failure and experiment. We are all common people, regardless of stature, position, rank, privilege or pedigree, as we will build for the eternal satisfaction of meeting our spiritual obligation for the creative imperative.

I set the cruise control for seventy and adjust the seat. The rental car, this time a Jeep, has a decent audio system and with a few adjustments to the spatial EQ, I relax and enjoy the tune as the hot winds rush past.

In complete appreciation of the combined relevance of lyrics and a foot tapping back-beat, I am led down the rabbit hole of introspective analysis. I have been here before. It is the musical/historical deja vu of a thousand visits to the challenge of life. It is the film score of my personal journey, the soundtrack of my path to self realization. The things I see, feel and act upon automatically create an accompanying surround sound multi-track relentlessly playing underneath the chaos and cacophony of my life in the lane of speed. There is always a destination, a map pin on the Mercator Projection indicating that a fire, an uprising, an atrocity or a threat to our way of life needs to be hosed down. I have learned over the many years acting as fire marshal proxy that one needs to balance the heat with chill whenever the opportunity exists. This very moment is one of those.

I consider my bag of tools. From the destructive nature of my Glock to the creative potential of the Drone we will be testing later this afternoon, the framers of the tune most likely were thinking of hammers and saws. I chuckle at the irony of the comparison and tackle the last line of the chorus, the book of rules.

Is it a good book as the Bible is often called? Are we, according to the powerful ability of music to guide us, being asked to put more weight into the words of others, rather than those of our own? Or are these rules more like an instruction manual or users guide offering the step-by-step procedures required for assembly? Or both? Or a combination of the best of the rest. What are the implications to a society given free will? Surely the book, as our guiding document, needs constant revision to reflect the changing times, attitudes, technologies and ecologies? Does this book offer the freedom for additions, deletions and corrections? What would an amendment to the 'good book' mean to the separation of Church and State?

I ponder the synergy of my personal tools and their potential as might be laid out in a rule book.

Don't shoot first.
Don't bring a pocket-knife to a firefight.
Do your homework.
Never sit with your back to the door.
Always keep calm.
Always keep your word.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
Use your head before your fists.
Respect others as you respect yourself.
Be humble.
Be kind. Be generous. Be happy.
Commit to the long game.
Live fully, love passionately and learn relentlessly.
Heed the lessons of the past and intend on success in the future, but…. above all other rules,
Be here now. 

The song ends in perfect harmony with my internal soliloquy. The slate black Jeep hums along the desert highway like a hungry carbon-fiber rhino.

With these clever tools and our current book of rules, we are builders for eternity; The endless chore of defining this barren and bleak shapeless mass.