Letter to Papa
Oct. 8th, 2005 09:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hafoc
Dear Papa,
I know it's dangerous to ask you for things, so I'm not going to. No need to go begging for yet another of your object lessons! But if you're in charge of the big picture, and if you have any plans-- neither of which ideas you will confirm or deny, you being yourself after all-- I'd just like you to know that going through all of this life stuff without knowing what the big plan may be is not easy. Not easy at all.
Of course, if there's one thing I've learned over the past couple of years, it's that whatever life is about, "easy" ain't it. Having things easy is a pretty poor goal in life, since the things that are easy aren't things that are great. And while I'm not convinced that I CAN do anything great-- you sure did knock the idea I had that much control right out of my head-- I still think that doing something great is the best goal to aspire toward. It's kind of sad that I have to be satisfied with my efforts (however poor they may be) and not really plan on, or even dream about, any sort of success, but sometimes the best way to take control is to stop trying. Sometimes the more focused you are on that one big prize, the harder you push it away.
Feh. Enough cheap philosophy for the moment-- it's a bad habit of mine. I apologize for it.
I'd just like to say, though, that some idea of the plan might comfort my heart a bit. Or might not; I suppose you'd be a better judge of that than I. I'll leave it to you to ponder that one.
One more thing. I doubt that it's really necessary any more to screw up my friends' lives just to teach me a lesson. If that's why it happens, of course. I've already figured out that in doing something nice for other people, I was trying to control them and control fate-- make them happy, make the world a better place, and all that rubbish. I've learned that you can't make anybody anything. All you can do is give them a gift and the opportunity to use it. If that was what you were trying to teach me by making all my efforts to help my friends turn to s*** at my touch, you can stop it now. I get the point.
It's a serious point, because beneath all the tricks and clowning, you're a serious god, aren't you? Humor's a serious subject, after all. It's always based on something going wrong, and sometimes to the point of tragedy. There's hardly anything more serious than that.
And all your horrible examples, all the little practical jokes you pull on me, they all have serious points behind them, don't they? They're lessons. And you, Papa, are a great teacher. Your lessons sting like hell as often as not, but I'll sure never forget them.
Thanks for the beautiful fall weather, and for the two or three days without any calls from crazy people. I imagine you love the fall too. Somehow I imagine you dancing in the falling leaves, playing Pan's pipes, for pete's sake. Even if that's not what you're up to this afternoon, I hope you're that happy; dancing with life, death, fate, and the stars to a music only you can hear, and watching over us, your children.
Love,
Havoc
I know it's dangerous to ask you for things, so I'm not going to. No need to go begging for yet another of your object lessons! But if you're in charge of the big picture, and if you have any plans-- neither of which ideas you will confirm or deny, you being yourself after all-- I'd just like you to know that going through all of this life stuff without knowing what the big plan may be is not easy. Not easy at all.
Of course, if there's one thing I've learned over the past couple of years, it's that whatever life is about, "easy" ain't it. Having things easy is a pretty poor goal in life, since the things that are easy aren't things that are great. And while I'm not convinced that I CAN do anything great-- you sure did knock the idea I had that much control right out of my head-- I still think that doing something great is the best goal to aspire toward. It's kind of sad that I have to be satisfied with my efforts (however poor they may be) and not really plan on, or even dream about, any sort of success, but sometimes the best way to take control is to stop trying. Sometimes the more focused you are on that one big prize, the harder you push it away.
Feh. Enough cheap philosophy for the moment-- it's a bad habit of mine. I apologize for it.
I'd just like to say, though, that some idea of the plan might comfort my heart a bit. Or might not; I suppose you'd be a better judge of that than I. I'll leave it to you to ponder that one.
One more thing. I doubt that it's really necessary any more to screw up my friends' lives just to teach me a lesson. If that's why it happens, of course. I've already figured out that in doing something nice for other people, I was trying to control them and control fate-- make them happy, make the world a better place, and all that rubbish. I've learned that you can't make anybody anything. All you can do is give them a gift and the opportunity to use it. If that was what you were trying to teach me by making all my efforts to help my friends turn to s*** at my touch, you can stop it now. I get the point.
It's a serious point, because beneath all the tricks and clowning, you're a serious god, aren't you? Humor's a serious subject, after all. It's always based on something going wrong, and sometimes to the point of tragedy. There's hardly anything more serious than that.
And all your horrible examples, all the little practical jokes you pull on me, they all have serious points behind them, don't they? They're lessons. And you, Papa, are a great teacher. Your lessons sting like hell as often as not, but I'll sure never forget them.
Thanks for the beautiful fall weather, and for the two or three days without any calls from crazy people. I imagine you love the fall too. Somehow I imagine you dancing in the falling leaves, playing Pan's pipes, for pete's sake. Even if that's not what you're up to this afternoon, I hope you're that happy; dancing with life, death, fate, and the stars to a music only you can hear, and watching over us, your children.
Love,
Havoc
