The usual morning ride with a few observations during the meditation period. Shift one gear up and make the adventure a little stronger.
I came across an iron horse holding a ring in its mouth. A lawn jockey used to be a sign of prestige. Only the finest of homes had a iron lawn jockey, usually shaped as a small black man dressed in a jockey outfit with a stretched out hand holding a ring. This was item of opulence was made to hold a horses reigns keeping the carriage or saddled steed in place until ready for another journey.
The neighborhood used to be punctuated with these gentlemen waiting to hold your horse. Through the years I observed they were vandalized or moved by the householder. These symbols of wealth were being removed for the common curb to rest the monster metal mobile machines.
I thought back to time when in a previous life they were used at the foxhunts.
So why are they still there? What symbol do they still hold?
The song for today is “Baby Please Don’t Go” by Van Morrison and then changes to “When the Mode of the Music Changes” by the Fugs. It’s all about pattern. 1-2-3-4 and repeat to the rhythm of the song.
What clubs are you a member of? The lawn jockey reminded me of the status symbols used by people to impress other people.
Clubs were another source of prestige. Who knows who in a group is what a club is all about? It was called a click in high school, but it remained a circle of people who decided who would or could join their circle.
Sometimes it was money, or name, or stature in the community, or just a bunch of kids who decided among themselves they would form a club and only let certain people in.
My dad knew how to work this system and could smooze his way to associate with the top names in state government and business leaders, but he was hired help. He could keep them happy and satisfied, but was not asked for his opinion.
Soft leather chairs, painting of horses on the wall, black men in starched tux serving brandy, and cigar smoke filling the air around the tall wooden bookshelf’s holding volumes of classics.
So what club do you belong to? What does it fulfill for you?
What would you love to be? You know, the thoughts you had as a little kid. When your dreams were of cowboys or astronauts or super heroes. Remember when you could do anything without thought of money or family or environment.
It’s a hideous thought but when you had not worries due to the impendence of the youth, what did you dream to be?
I had no dreams so they never came true.
I’ve noted the tall old trees in my neighborhood that loom over me as I ride back and forth every day. Trees as old as the streets or even before. Trees that conquer the concrete and swallow up the sidewalks in their massive trucks line my path.
I think of them as air roots. They reach to the sun and spread to the warmth as below ground they suck the earth moisture.
But with age and weather these fingers will break off from the main frame and drop to the ground.
So I wander through this canopy of possible destruction and beauty.