Succumbing to the comforts of the path of least resistance
I was lying down in the living room when I noticed that it was twilight and I didn’t know where my youngest son was. I could’ve gotten up and gone to the hall and found out where he was, but I called his cell phone instead.
I could make up some reason why I didn’t get up and go see if he was at home before I unleashed even more radiation into my surroundings to send signals to an unknown relay tower—and on up to a satellite past the sky somewhere, for all I knew—and then right back down to a spot perhaps a few yards away from me. I could, but the truth is I just didn’t want to get up.
I’d stretched out on the living-room futon just minutes before, settling in nicely for a couple of hours of a mindless movie. Getting up to look for Joe would’ve required rejecting physical comfort—quite a bit of fatigue along with a good futon and a soft blanket created specifically for me by a loved one, and a feeling of great good will and satisfaction with the universe. I was basking in the fullness and goodness and richness of life, and I was tired, too, don’t forget.
He’d gone to skate earlier, and I didn’t know if he was back yet, and I like to know where my sons are. When the explosions get close, and they’re bound to sooner or later, I want to know where to find them.
I used to say I wanted to know how to put my hand on them, to be able always to touch them, to assure myself that they actually exist and that they’re not just warm and well-fed, but that they’re pleased with life and enjoying the ride. I expect a lot because I’ve gotten so much.
But first I’ve got to know where they are. Ade (AH-day) was a foot and a half away, so I called Joe’s cell phone. I thought about how I was using up the Earth’s resources to contact someone who might be down the hall and that that’s not really much different from drilling in Alaska. I tried to think of getting up to look for Joe as exercise. Sitting up could be part of my abs program, and then I could stand up mindfully and do a walking meditation to Joe’s room. I could be enlightened by the time I got there.
Instead, I called him. The hell with the ozone. I was floating warmly on a cloud, and Sarah Palin is from Alaska. Joe was in his room, and if I had it to do over I might go for enlightenment, but probably not.
And I caved in to family pressure and voted for Barack Obama. I think electronic voting is hacker heaven and has made elections just another computer game, but I voted anyway. I was leaning toward Cynthia McKinney, but Ade and his people said I should vote for Obama, so I did. Maybe next time, Cynthia.