A Child's View on Intellect

I went on a job interview today. It was pretty entry level and as expected, I was deemed "over-qualified" for the position. The interviewer exclaimed, "I think you may be too smart, or maybe too professional for this position", laughing a bit. He was very polite and professional, we spoke a bit more about the down turn in the industry and the types of applicants he's seen. He thanked me for showing up and dressing well.

I returned home to my oldest demanding information about the appointment. I exclaimed to her that I was deemed "too smart" for the job. Baffled, Eden decided to test the theory. She said, "okay Daddy, if you're so smart, then what is 109 + 101?" I smiled, trying not to laugh, "210," I said. Now I'm almost laughing. Eden sat back in her bed, her eyes lifted and she remarked, with complete and utter impress, "wow Dad, you really are too smart!"

She went on to ask me a series of questions that she didn't know the answer to, but I continued to amaze... according to her.

I Showed My Vulnerability

My wife saw me cry. I couldn't think of any other way to start this post, there's no suspenseful way to build up that type of comment. However, the story that is involved seemed far too commonplace to cause such a reaction. It wasn't death, it wasn't tragedy nor anger, but love... of all things.

Khalil Gibran wrote of love, in his book "The Prophet":

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love. 

I've loved my wife since the day I met her. A day hasn't passed where I haven't told her I love her. Often times, in fact, most of the time, I assume my actions are examples of how much I love her, even the arguments! But 2 weeks ago we were having a conversation, the conversation turned passionate and I immediately realized, after 7 years of marriage I may have been asking the wrong questions, or saying the wrong things. I decided at that moment, I should not tell my wife I love her, rather, tell her what my love means, and what she means to me. As a professional egotist, explaining myself has always been quite simple... well, pride has a way of falling. See, I have always glowed in the positive moments, it's easy to love when things are going well. I seemingly only sought out loves Peace and Pleasure, forgoing the situations that allowed me to recognize and enjoy the Pleasures of love.

I walked my wife over to an arts and crafts table in our daughters' playroom. A sat across from her and before I could finish her name my vision became blurry - I felt my lips curl in an uncontrollable manor, and for the first time in my life, I stumbled, helplessly over my words. Completely and utterly incoherent, I knew, I was actually crying. My heart seemed to be travelling through my body trying to find the best place to pump blood, the chest cavity was just too far away. I felt the throbs of my heart in every extremity. I remember looking around frantically, attempting to affix my eye sight to something it could focus on - to no avail. I stopped talking...mumbling. I excused my actions by checking the time and trying a little laugh... I was crying again. I broke, I actually broke. My wife is the first person to see me cry in my adult life and it was she that broke me. 

In a moment, in a flash, I was vulnerable, exposed. I don't know if that will ever happen again, we've only spoken of it one time and as quickly as the topic came up, it went away, until now. I felt weak and helpless, I looked for strength within myself and for the first time in my adult life I found nothing more than a burning sensation resonating in my chest and throat. 

I've Never Done This Before

     I've never experienced death. At least not in this capacity. An hour ago, to the minute of this sentence, my Grandmother, Lydia Batiste, passed away. I confidently post this as my recent private life will most likely remain such. But yes, she's gone. I don't cry, not sure the reason. I seem to be able to tell jokes and remember the positive moments she brought to my life. My wife however, well, she's the sentimental one, I do hurt for her... and my mom and her 11 siblings. I, for some reason, have the burden of having the most unconventional view of death.

     I've kept the situation with my grandmother very quiet to the people in my life, of which there are few. But it is not within my right to burden their mindset with such things. How ever I may view death should be of no consequence to them. I learned, albeit not very quickly, that when someone asked about her - not to treat it as though it were a "none issue". But I also should be able to be honest right? So, yes! Death is natural, sickness is natural, death is something we all do, none can escape. I think it was Steve Jobs that said something about Death is Life's change agent, we all share it and no one has escaped it, or something to that effect. Yet, when it happens, everyone seems so surprised and at odds with life. I've questioned that for so long. Not that I think crying is the wrong thing to do, but... I don't know.

     On March 5, 2012 I posted an exert by Tecumseh, on Death.

...When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home.