grandfather, speak to me

patrick was a kindly looking man, with a big walrus moustache, holding a clarinet when he came from around the tree.

i was sitting with my three 1965 coins, dropping them six times, and writing down the heads and the tails.

"enthusiasm!" he thundered, "weren't you 16 when my son john joseph joined me over here?"

i remembered ken kesey hosting a grateful dead concert broadcast, citing hexagram #16, Enthusiasm: music held the power to unite the souls of men, and ancient chinese religious rituals were held, inviting the souls of the ancestors to descend, and how theatre developed out of these rituals.

"you want speak," he said, "here's speak. move along the lines of least resistance.  when it's time to move, hesitation will bring remorse.  you have been persistently ill, but still you have not died.  you have had a problem with deluded enthusiasm: wanting the new york giants to go undefeated was a deluded wish, and i'm glad cleveland burst THAT bubble only hours after you made the wish. (how much better to lose your first game in october than in january, nich wahr?) but, little red-faced kid, no blame."

i was so glad to finally see him that i didn't speak.  he pulled out a trumpet, and, standing in the driveway now at 50-24, he blew me a solo.  then he smiled, and continued.

"16 turns to 53, son. Development, or Gradual Progress.  it's image?  upon a mountain, this tree you lean against.  hey! it says here, "the maiden is given in marriage!  who is she?"

i didn't know.  sometimes it's tough being a little red-faced kid. so i remained silent.

"i see. well, just work on your own personality, and give no time to worry. because perseverence prevents slow progress from dwindling to nothing.

willfully provoke no conflict.

you can achieve reconciliation despite some deceitful people in your life.

if, perchance, you fly too high, and disappear up there, perhaps you will let drop some of your feathers for use in the sacred dance.  do you think you could do that, for me?"

15 november 2008