Spring and Musings from the Inside of a Bald Head

Spring, the first thoughts that spring forth in my mind are green, then new life, then slinky.  Yeah, the slinky popped into my thoughts springing from a youthful toy that still amuses.  Green and new life on the other hand is what awaits me as I look out the window.

I sit at my dinner/writing table gazing into a mirror that reflects the view from outside.  I see green grass, dotted with yellow heads of dandelions, a Redbud bursting with purple flowers, and a Beech tree pushing forth greenery from its buds.  Coming closer, I see my bald head reflected in the mirror, with the only signs of new growth the stubble of a day old beard.  To my side is a Kinkade painting, A Quiet Evening, a cottage next to a stream, surrounded by trees and flowers.  It is to the painting I sometimes retreat, seeking peace and solace, a cottage filled with the contents of my imagination.

Then back to the bald headed person in the mirror.  Who is he?  Sixty years ago, he had a full head of red hair and probably a full diaper.  What dreams did the baby dream?  Did he still hear the voice of God?  A brain, an empty slate ready to have life’s adventures, toils, and tribulations recorded therein.  Oh how I would love to venture back in time and whisper so many secrets to that child. 

What would I tell the child?  Would I be a good capitalist and tell him, to buy Microsoft and Amazon?  Perhaps I would say find your true purpose in life early and pursue your dreams, seek good and wise counsel, and most of all trust your instincts.  Discover the strengths that lie within you, and always learn.  Truthfully I would tell him to pursue his dreams to be happy and buy Microsoft to eat well.

I was a very shy child.  I remember the first time I felt compassion, at least a time that is ingrained in my memory.  I was in fourth grade and in the middle of the first semester a new kid was introduced, Manuel Gomez, a Mexican child who lived in a ramshackle house at the edge of the woods not far from my home.  I noticed he was crying and alone, and I talked to him at recess and we ended up good friends.  I still remember the pumpkin filled empanada his mother gave me, so sweet, so delicious, and I have never tasted one better. 

Compassion, coupled with empathy can be both a wonderful gift and a deadly curse.  I can sense what people are feeling, their love, their fears, and their hate.  Mostly the hate is a result of fear and/or ignorance and that can sometimes be conquered with education and love.  Hate, that resides in an educated individual, or an institution, that hate is pure evil, and evil rarely responds to love. 

Sixty years, sixty times around the sun, not even a full blink in the all-seeing eye of the cosmos.  I have seen love and I have seen hate.  Today, in this world, I see hate winning, and it is sad.  But today, at this moment in time, I look past my bald head and gaze at the purple tree, the green grass, and even the dandelions, and my heart sings with joy.  I will do my best not to let hate win.  Love will be victorious!