Maybe it is like that.


Maybe someone is at the controls.




I’m not a believer in that, I guess I have to come right out and say that.


Well, maybe that’s not quite correct. What it is is that you can be at the controls. If you want. But you only get to control your own little game. No fair trying to control everyone else’s.


Stay you in your own sandbox.




I think that those Buddhists see it this way, that you can actually take the controls of your own mind. Learn how to fly that little dirigible over your toy town, go hover over the ball field and watch the boys run out of the dugout, waving their caps and shouting in their tiny, far away voices. Run you the train along the tracks that divide the good side of town from the slums. Put the signal arms down at the intersections or let the engine smash into that pale blue station wagon that’s stalled on the tracks, the harried mother behind the wheel, cranking the key in the ignition and telling the kids to stay in their seats.

Make it rain.




Or, you know, have the sun come out.


Make them tiny flowers unfurl themselves from the dirt and turn their petals to face the sun.


Send a little breeze to make them quiver.


Toss a handful of birds around to animate the trees and the bushes and to peck at the insects on the ground.




You can worry about how things are going to be when you die if you want. You can think about it being like how it was in the world before you were born.


But I wonder if you think about this:


You will never know a world without you in it. Every moment of existence you ever get a taste of has got you right smack dab in the middle of it.


It is always going to be just like this.


It ain’t a thing to fret about.




I hope you have you a real good weekend.


I aim to.