The Man, Part II

Today in the midst of activities without agenda, I realized that I may be doomed to a life of unprofitability, and therefore, uselessness.

This flash of insight burst upon me as my daughter and I sat on a small pile of old railroad ties, contentedly munching on crackers while taking a break from an impromptu photo safari.  We had been outdoors for about an hour, and we both needed to rest a bit.  I was loading film into my new favorite camera and feeling relaxed for the first time this past week, lost in the pleasure of simply existing with in my skin, and in the company of the Wee Lass.

The thought came to me that what fills me with contentedness, centers me and grounds me are primarily creative endeavors, some without program or timetable.  If these can be engaged in the presence of those whom I love, the return is even greater.  The feeling of wholeness is amplified, bringing life to my life.

Within the context of a culture that values logic and speed and efficiency and by extension usefulness (i.e. that which can increase profit), however, I am at a distinct disadvantage.  Logic and speed and efficiency have their place, but as prime attributes they define a way of life that is swiftly diverging from the path I want to follow.  They are no substitute for beauty and thoughtful consideration and unfettered joy.

I let none of this show when looking at my daughter.  I kept it out of my voice as we talked about the pictures we were taking, the train tracks, the old buildings with their graffiti, the quiet flow of the river below us.  She was excited that I was letting her take pictures with my cameras (and the sight of her walking cheerfully along with my digital camera slung around her neck was priceless); I was excited that we could share a slow Saturday afternoon, doing something we like with nary a clock or calculator in sight.  Instead, I felt a fierce hope well up inside me that I would be able to open her eyes to possibility, to beauty, and to follow her heart in a world that too often seems bent on breaking it.

She took a picture of me today, a pretty good one.  I'm standing on the bridge over the river (how symbolic!) and I'm smiling, really smiling, which I don't often do these days.  I like to think she caught a glimpse of the true me: a beautifully useless man who loved her more than anything.