Futility

The choosing what to bring, in the Subaru, is less a decision process that I'm making and more about the magnetic power, of the things, themselves. When I'm away from the objects they really have little power. IT is when I am about to throw them away, drive them to Goodwill (my lil bit o heaven) or send them through the mail that they begin to speak to me, cry, or tear at my mind. As if I am somehow defined by the objects.

Some of the more difficult ones to think about or discern their golden place, inside the Vehicle of Wind, take my emotional life, into their being. I'm talking about journals that I've written and I've kept since, oh 1977, and beyond. Others, play on my guilt and conscience, having to do with paper objects containing words of wisdom from Biblical Literary Critique and the historical context of the Prophets; et al.

My history professor, Mulholland, from Berkshire Community College, in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, comes to mind. His Roman nose and antique hands, whipped up images of the Mediterranean Sea, The Tigris and Euphrates River and places in Between that are pinned up in my memory, just as they were on that flimsy chalk board.

In one of my more down days, last week, I entered a house where their pastor was already ministering. And I took the opportunity for further guidance. She told me, something to the effect; "In the name of the Lord, you're released." and she encouraged release of all seminary materials. In my tears, I thanked her, but at home, I'm still holding back.

This leads me to the title of the blog, taken after Ecclesiastes, written by dear old Kohelet, traditionally held in Judaism to be none other than King Solomon, Son of David, and King of Israel. In the old age, of the rich King, full of cynicism and doubt, he wrote the words of the Book of Ecclesiastes. Famously, we recognize now, as a pop icon, with the 60's song we hold so dear,
"For everything there is a Season and a Time for Every purpose under Heaven." And we think there is wisdom within. A kind of nuanced balance that comes in handy when things change unexpectedly or a loss is experienced. That yes, even this, is under Heaven.

Some think Kohelet must have been mad to write something like, vapor all is vapor, or if you like, futile all is futile; that all your toil will one day end so get a grip of your madness and the madness of the world and take the long view; enjoy what you are able to enjoy. In the author's doubt and blindness, he brings us to the emptiness of life, sorrow of the bad and the good getting no different treatments and us having such a difficult time discerning actually who we are facing. And finally, as we face death, of our own, or of a kind and gentle police officer,  such as Stg. Craig Hutchinson, aka "Hutchy", we ponder what will all his goodness come to and how will we carry on when such a good man dies? Who will carry on, with such depth, his torch? And perhaps this is the purpose; that in the midst of the madness, we must choose, the good, to carry on.

And I continue to take the nuggets, though undoubtably, against the grain of most, to repeatedly ponder,
As a woman comes out of her mothers womb, so she must depart at last, naked as she came. She can take nothing of her wealth, to carry out with her. So what is the good of her toiling for the wind? Ecclesiastes 3:14-15.

And I ask, still, shall I let it go?