The Missing Masses

These past ten days I had the rare and distinct opportunity to stand back motionless and watch the world go on around me. Illness struck. I, like you, hardly considered this perplexing occurrence an "opportunity" and fought with all my resources to prevent the evil from polarizing my electrically charged life. My doctor assured me that radical viral infections show no favoritism and all I could do was wince, groan, yelp, gasp and study the all-commanding pain that seized my helpless muscular system until it had run its course. Fine.

I couldn't sit, stand or lay; nor could I turn my head one cm. to the left, right, up or down. It also refused to tilt. Cleans and presses were not options during the ensuing three days. The grief, like a roving alien, attached itself to my right scapula persuading me to lean like an old scarecrow to the left, my arms held rigid so as not to aggravate anything. For three days not a single crow alighted my grimacing posture. Certified ER staffers prescribed wisely a concoction of Western technologically engineered herbs and teas [I think] and I entertained nightmares for a week as the hysterical pain vaporized, leaving me to wander the smoldering wasteland I'd become. There were lucid moments, however, when revelation and inspiration flashed across my timeless yet hungry mind.

My dear friends, it's time to pause and take note of your surroundings, your acts, your daily production. We are an indecently busy and unconvincedly content creature. I dare not call us driven and apathetic, as these are loathsome conditions reserved only for the living dead. Yet, so distracted are we that we fail grandly to take a good, hard look at ourselves, the kind of look that requires us to step back, fold our arms, tilt our head slightly [if you are able] and ponder. Who are we? Who do we think we are? Where are we going?

We've come a long way, mighty gorillas. Was it by accident or was it by chance? Did we imitate others, innocently or purposely? Do we notice our presence as one does a freeway billboard or a strutting downtown pedestrian? Maybe, once in our lives. But not today. We have met our merry iron taskmaster riddled with cables and together we share in his broad and unfathomable teachings.

We are not so shallow as to glance at our physiognomy with mere marshmallow curiosity. I'm willing to wager that, as of late, we peer at our lives with keen perception and gaze with healthy pride in our own general direction. Standing before us we encounter a noble comrade called you and me. With each precious morning we are reminded of our uniqueness, our blessings, effectiveness, possibilities and inalienable rights. Our beautiful God-given attributes; joy, patience, goodness, generosity, compassion and gratefulness ring as bells on the hour throughout the day.

What is man without a pump but an empty cell?

Sadly, there are some who seldom look and barely see the lovable rascal they truly are; in too few instances do they embrace their own lovely and lonely being. Larger than all of us there exists an obedient and punchy soul caught in a societal flow like wind-born litter in the stream of life bound for the sea. How many of us will miss the giant we are and the opportunities for greatness upon which we perch, golden settings for a flawless diamond?

The days are getting longer. February 2000 is the first anniversary of dd.com. Ain't it funny how time slips away? More news: the brilliant and loquacious IronOnline saga is just eight months old... students aimed and fired, bombs exploded, aircraft like flying whales plunged into the seas. Israel, Palestine and Syria said yes, no, maybe. China hides and Russia spars flatfooted. Babies come and babies go and the floods and mud and wind and rain and fire call our name out loud. No bright and sunny days in Chechnya, no cartwheels in Kosivo. Where have all the nuclear bombs gone, their secrets and their blasts? Save the jumbos, the gorillas, the ozone and the poor, decaying morals. Three cheers for money, greed and power; the harlot, the usurper, and the executioner. Their accuser and their advocate proclaim justice in the self-same breath.

Hey, bombastic Bomberinos. Remember when we prepared for our ambitious winter challenge in September of '99: eat right, train right, live right, no slumps, no gaps? How many of us heeded that noble invitation and seized the offer to behold its riches? We boldly said, "Let there be no deterioration in the substance of which we are made." Not one of us will stagger in seeking the prize held before us, we declared unanimously. No crack in our prowess, no let up in the good fight. Nothing less than zeal, mettle, fortitude and courage will girdle our mighty shoulders.

How many of us enthusiastically responded? How many of us dauntless in spirit carried the glorious banner high? We still and always will hold tightly to our worn length of banner unfurled, billowing in the winds for the World to see.

I think our dinky challenge worked. Next month, it's Spring. A time to blossom.

THE MISSING MASSES