Dust In The Wind
My sister read my letters and told me I needed one more letter to summarize.
She's right. I read some of my stuff and feel so embarrassed by how big
I must sound when I say such lofty things as "… this dog will no longer
sit but stand. I will stand and say that I am a man. I am a strong man
and I will not go gentle into that good night. I will rage against the
dying of the light." Hoo boy. Mr. Big.
We are all filled with such doubt. We dare to dream big things and then
we doubt ourselves. We think about how much we have to offer and then we
doubt our gifts. The doubt is fear. The dream is love. I am a dreamer.
We all are dreamers and that is when we are at our best. We all have doubts
and that is when we are at our worst. I want to live the dream. I want
it with all my heart.
We Catholics have a feast called Ash Wednesday which starts the season
of Lent; a time of soul searching in our church. The reason it is called
Ash Wednesday is that during the ceremony a priest puts ashes on our foreheads
and says these words: "Remember, man, that you are dust and unto dust
you shall return." This is a truth that no scientist will deny. Is
it a sad truth? Yes, but only if it is the only truth.
If there is an evil in this world it is time. It only brings death and
dust to bury us in archeology. And who would dig us up? Who would need
to dig us up? Nature does not need us. Science has shown us how nature
handles things with a cold and beautiful efficiency. Nature would not care.
No, if we were to be dug up it would be by a lover -- a dreamer -- a
being who feels a kinship with the past -- a being who would love our spirit
and know that he or she is one in that spirit. The archeologist is a great
lover; a great dreamer.
What would that archeologist find? Would he laugh at our cockiness;
that we would kill our own to stave off time or to pretend that we would
not be buried by it? Would he laugh? Or, would he cry? Rather he would
find a society worthy of his love to dig us up; a society that cared as
he would care; a society that tried to live the dream; a society that was
one with this archeologist's spirit of love.
Yes, time is cold and heartless and we are doomed to dust. But we have
a choice. We can buy into the heartless cold of time and say that it is
only about the here and now; or, we can fly in the face of it. We can be
dust in the wind. The truth of our greatness is in the wind of our spirit.
The truth of our smallness is in the dust of our time.
I look to the wind for my answers. I look to the wind for my words.
I find the truth in the poetry of time. I feel the pain of my heroes and
know that they cared. I feel the pain of my present and know that I am
here and now. I feel the pain of my children and know that I care.
I am one in that spirit of my past and of my future and I fly. I am
dust in the wind. And I will live in that love and be thankful for the
pain of my knowing. I know that love is true.
Have I said enough, Maureen?
Love,
Brian
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