It is Sunday and I have begun with a doodle. This is because of local tradition. When our valley is in a state of barometric flux some of us wake up and celebrate with migraines. It is best to keep one eye closed --the hurty one-- but this makes clumsiness. Not clumsy to the degree recorded by Ecclesiastes [(10:18), "He that diggeth a pit shall fall into it."] but still pretty clumsy, so movement is kept to a minimum and no pit-digging for sure.
I only ventured out to the pumphouse for a headache pill and came right back. Forgot and carried the pumphouse padlock in with me. There it is up there, and a doodle I drew of it. I drew a human between them and that's when it became a sermon, a sermon about love. We'll start in the past, back when I had two eyes open and radios had little orchestras inside them.
The little orchestras played love songs mostly. I thought I was in love once or twice but my hat had only caught fire --as often happens to one. Then one has a chance encounter. One sits at a table somewhere opposite a stranger, and since decorum dictated --at the time-- strangers remain even stranger, a strange thing happens. First, one's past and present tenses are confounded. Then one notices the other's eyes and decides there is something really quite elegant about them. And one falls in love.
Oh my. It's what, 1968? The thoughts: "Why now? At a time when our best and most progressive leaders are shot dead at their podiums, when theocon regressionists and international belligerents consider God their quaint subordinate, when I could be drafted or jailed, when there is so much to do, why now? Why not ten years from now, five even? Why now?"
And so, let us turn to Acts 9:5-6 - "it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks." Because there are a lot of them out there, and (hopefully) one only has so many feet, we must rely upon the transcendent power of love. Love doesn't care what's going on. It hits when it hits, incapable of putting itself off no matter how inconvenient it is. It finds one returning the pumphouse lock and asks, "How's your barometer-head?" And, miraculously, my eyes are opened.
An elegant doodle and an equally elegant Sunday sermon.
ReplyDeleteYou unlocked your third eye.
ReplyDeleteYou write AND you draw!
ReplyDeleteI loved the sermon and found myself remembering that 'Love laughs at locksmiths'.
Delores-- Thank you! Although my head felt anything but elegant today. Happily, air pressure stabilized this afternoon.
ReplyDeleteSuze-- Does this mean I must add a monocle to my glasses?
E.C.-- Most kind, and thanks for the excellent proverb!
The enormous illusion of love has often given me migraines and has certainly caused me occasional confusion with padlocks and other such things.
ReplyDeleteThe doodle is wonderful and your sermon is intriguig. Your talents never fail to impress me.
Jon-- Thanks! Indeed there is illusion (and disillusion) in love but my migraines are barometric. Sounds like a goofy song from the 1920s doesn't it?
ReplyDeleteThis was wonderful Geo. I loved the description of noticing the elegance in another's eyes and aLso the description of the turmoil of the late 60's.
ReplyDeleteIf love did not exist, it would be necessary to invent it. Nothing at all makes sense without it.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you do.
And I love your drawing.
And I love that quote, EC.
I loved every sentence of that.
ReplyDeleteAnd the drawing? Wow. I had no idea!
Pearl
Keith-- Thanks! I'm reminded of a Mae West quote:"Love conquers all things except poverty and toothache." So turmoil, no problem.
ReplyDeleteAustan-- By the same criterion, I'm glad you make sense too!
Pearl-- Thanks! I'm pretty good at padlocks, women, rocks and dinosaurs. Now that I'm retired, I get my crayons out oftener and hope to produce a child, a horse and a seascape. Life is good!
A beautiful story of love, Geo! It strikes at the most unexpected and inconvenient times. It can royally screw up your plans and goals and shoot you off somewhere where you never dreamed of going. And sometimes, sadly, it doesn't strike the object of your love. So you go through several times of smoldering hats or wounded heart, and then suddenly the right one is there. I don't know where I stumbled across this quote, or who said it, but it hit me hard, hard enough that I've copied it into my calendar the past few years. Because, after all the false starts and heartaches, Terry was the right one. "Someday someone will walk into your life and make you realize why it never worked with someone else. My greatest friend, my greatest joy, it was you." Life is good!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Louise. These keys we touch tickle electrons back in time. It's all one moment to them. I appreciate your future enhancement of this one!
Delete