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I began my “professional” career managing political campaigns. It was a fast-paced and exciting adrenaline filled life. I can see now that it was fulfilling whatever I thought was missing within myself.

It was also vicious.

My hunger for involvement with and about politics never really went away. Up until just a couple of years ago I was still heavily involved with politics on a daily basis. I would spend large numbers of hours reading blogs, understanding the news, getting angry, viciously debating and fighting with others. It was all for naught.

I’m beginning to understand that it just doesn’t matter. Not it just doesn’t matter in the sense of you can’t change anything because the evil government has us by the neck, but rather it just doesn’t matter because in the grand scheme of our existence, those actions, anger, and involvement really don’t matter. More along the lines of what we do and how we feel and how we get angry isn’t as relevant anymore.

What I can see now. Is that my anger and involvement didn’t accomplish a whole lot. I can do far more as an awake person that I can with politics. My involvement in politics was just another lost existence. I’m so much happier now that I don’t get myself worked up over political maneuverings. I find that I’m able to easily pull away from it. Yes I want more compassionate people running our world but I’d like to see more mindful people running our world so compassion isn’t necessarily needed.

A new study came out recently that said we’re pretty much the same as we will always be from birth on. And that we don’t normally change. I think that’s probably true for our unconscious existence but being mindful can transform every aspect of who you are and what’s important or not.

They say our friend Paula died in a freak accident. It wasn’t. There are no freak accidents. There are no accidents unless you call reality an accident. Accidents are the culmination of a series of moments. No, really they are just a moment. Too many moments are required to get to that moment to say any one thing, moment, or person is responsible.

For that matter, this blog post is a freak accident.

So, did our friend die, because she decided to buy a new Dodge and then met the man that would ask her out and then convince her to go against her better judgement and get on a motorcycle and not wear a helmet. Did the Dodge cause that?

What about the woman in the car that hit them? What moments and circumstances lead her to that moment. Maybe it was the distraction that caused her to change lanes in to them…

Where does fault truly lie? It doesn’t. Millions of factors go into any circumstance or moment. Our application of fault or cause is another component of our delusion.

We pigeon hole our lives and our “selves”. We are expected to have a career and stick with it, so for the most part we do. Then one day we realize we never got to be a dinosaur.

Just be.

Dinosaur
By Bruce Rogers

When he was very young, he waved his arms, gnashed the teeth of his massive jaws, and tromped around the house so that the dishes trembled in the china cabinet. “Oh, for goodness sake,” his mother said. “You are not a dinosaur! You are a human being!” Since he was not a dinosaur, he thought for a time that he might be a pirate. “Seriously,” his father said at some point, “what do you want to be?” A fireman, then. Or a policeman. Or a soldier. Some kind of hero. But in high school they gave him tests and told him he was very good with numbers. Perhaps he would like to be a math teacher? That was respectable. Or a tax accountant? He could make a lot of money doing that. It seemed a good idea to make money, what with falling in love and thinking about raising a family. So he was a tax accountant, even though he sometimes regretted that it made him, well, small. And he felt even smaller when he was no longer a tax accountant, but a retired tax accountant. Still worse, a retired tax accountant who forgot things. He forgot to take the garbage to the curb, forgot to take his pill, forgot to turn his hearing aid back on. Every day it seemed he had forgotten more things, important things, like which of his children lived in San Francisco and which of his children were married or divorced.

Then one day when he was out for a walk by the lake, he forgot what his mother had told him. He forgot that he was not a dinosaur. He stood blinking his dinosaur eyes in the bright sunlight, feeling the familiar warmth on his dinosaur skin, watching dragonflies flitting among the horsetails at the water’s edge.

http://www.flashfictiononline.com/f20090204-dinosaur-bruce-holland-rogers.html