That Beatitude

Posted on December 6, 2004 in Depression Hikes and Trails

I went for a long walk on the Santiago Trail, an adventure that I reported at the OC Metroblog. I went there to get above the alabaster clouds. Unfortunately, there was no height high enough there to exercise the feat.

It’s hard for me these days for many reasons. The largest of these is the way that so many people have given up here in America. They’ve given up on changing the system. They’ve given up on anything other than the narrowest, most work-related self-improvement. They don’t want to take time to discuss things, to work things through. Life has to come to them like bottled pokemon figures from a vending machine. I don’t have the quarters to waste on such investments.

There’s a style of leadership that I am good at, but few want to acknowledge the results except a very close dedicated few. I have told you, my readers, that I do not want to be thought a prophet because I have seen what has happened to the character of others who have been declared prophets. My life has been active resistance to being siphoned into conformity and the payment I have often received include accusations of wanting personal power (my life theme has been empowerment of everyone — how stupid can some people be?), little income, and smart remarks from people who haven’t a clue what they are talking about.

Could I be a total dictator? I doubt it. Mainly because I could not live with myself if I were.

I am tired of the white boy cynicism I see among my fellow liberals. As I noted in the previous article, I am discouraged because they keep blaming Kerry for losing the election when it is clear that what has happened across the board is the disenfranchisement of African American voters. Which suggests to me that African Americans are more on the ball when it comes to saying the game than all the white boy political pundits who try to cram themselves through the needle’s eye of rationalization.

On these issues I reflected as I walked the Santiago Trail, from the head to a great bend just before the trail jumped Fossil Hill. I turned back because the ocean was changing from silver to gold, a sign that night was approaching. Tomorrow, I shall go back, looking not for faith but for comfort. I mourn. I hope the Beatitude is right.