Silently I Sit

Silently I sit in my prison as the giving of life and the giving of death goes about its unalterable way in the world around me; I feel no sympathy for one, nor anger towards the other. Silently I sit and listen as one prisoner preaches and one prisoner condemns, feeling neither inspiration nor condemnation concerning their well-given opinions. Silently I sit as the prison system practices unfair policies on us and silently I sit as we practice unfair policies on one another. Silently I sit as first my daughter and then me eldest son married and had children; even my youngest has married in my absence. 
Silently I sit.

I sit in study and I sat in contemplation. I contemplate and study. Later I added prayer and meditation to the mixture and then I contemplated and studied prayer. I sit slouched and read from "The Equinox" and I sit straight and practice my breathing; sometimes breathing deep and fast and other time breathing slow and shallow. Sometime I do not breathe at all. Silently I sit.

I was told to become, in mind and spirit, many different things, from rocks to trees to decaying corpses, yoga teachings. I followed to extreme the instructions I had been given. I sat in stone and fell wet from the sky, I felt myself rot on the vine  and felt myself sprout anew upon another. I stood transfixed in an imaginary forest and I experienced my flesh falling from my bones in decay, but no matter how enlightening the beginning and the middle of this practice was, the ending was inescapable, and the hour would always come when I was once again the leper; forced to look at the world from exile eyes.
My friend came to me with a coat of many colors. Alongside him I laughed and prayed and meditated and hoped to somehow right the vessel of my life before all of its fluids had spilled out and into the cracked sidewalk of realty. I was his artists shadow, a thing which I know is necessary to give a painting its life. He was the light and I the shadow, together we created. Silently I sit.

I was the asker of questions, childish questions like, "Are we there yet? How much further?" and " How will I know when I have arrived?" My friend would only smile at me and then reassure me be saying, "Trust me". We are making progress. "WE have accepted that which was given to us and that is the greatest wisdom of all". But as the years have passed, in my heart, the glow of magic has dimmed and I feel as though I have learned nothing from my prison experience, and what I did recognize as progress, I must question ... It could have been learned anywhere ... so I can not understand why I had to experience the harsh realty of prison to learn that which I could have learned from someone on the outside.

What is the purpose of my life?

"To be kind", a voice inside me said.

Silently I sit ... and smile.

FYI: Tomorrow is my granddaughter Sophie's birthday! For the record, she has that most beautiful eye color of anyone alive. No, I ain't kidding, they are very unusual in color ... like a Goddess. 

Grampa story: When she was a little girl her parents would bring her to visit. I remember when she was about three years old she came, I said to her, "Sophie let me see those eyes", lol, she walked over and stood in front of me, tilted her head back and opened her eyes real wide ... you see, she was so used to people wanting to look at her eyes that she had the whole little, "This is a normal part of my life" pose down, she grew up thinking it was normal, that she was supposed to let people look at her eyes whenever they asked, God I love her ... we have this thing between us, she always says, "I got those eyes from you, grandpa" which is a lie of course, her eyes are so different from mine, but I always act like I believe her! ;) Anyway. Happy Birthday Sophia Marie Crawford!!!

Peace be with you, Mayor Mark

 

Bastrop, TX 10/5/26