It’s easy to feel like the Bush administration is driving you crazy. Every day, it seems, there’s a new revelation about Bush lies, Bush incompetence, Bush dissembling, Bush favoritism.
In no way is he a uniter rather a divider. If there’s anyone who can shatter the composure of a concerned citizen who cares about truth, justice, and the American way, it’s George W. Bush. Just looking at him on TV, even with the sound off, makes me irritated.
But I’ve come to this conclusion: if Bush is continually bothering me, he’s won—in the same sense as we hear, “if the terrorists make us give up our way of life, they’ve won.”
Life is to be lived, not fretted about. If my psyche falls into a Bush-bashing frenzy every time I read a newspaper, watch CNN, or listen to talk radio, I’m allowing myself to be controlled by a neo-con administration whose goal is exactly that: to control the American citizenry.
Today I stomped dead blackberry vines on our rural Oregon property. I had sprayed them in the fall and they’re ready for stomping into the ground now. Like fine wine, there’s a right time for tending to these vines: the more brittle they are, the better. It’s good exercise. Sort of like step aerobics with thorns.
Our neighbors have built a large garage adjacent to the blackberry stomping grounds. It deeply irritates my wife and me. Once we had gotten the blackberries cleared, we were looking forward to a much better view of a nearby community lake. Then the three-bay garage went up, a grotesque unnatural intrusion on this part of our property.
It’s easy for me to focus on the garage whenever I’m walking or working within sight of it. I find myself looking in the garage’s direction even when there’s no need for me to do so. I can’t say that the irritation it produces in me is pleasant. But for some reason I’ve fallen into a habit of being bothered by the garage.
Today I tried something different. I did my best to accept the garage as a reality. It’s been built. It isn’t on our land, so there’s nothing I can do about it. What I can do is attend to my life on our property. To my leg, stomping dead blackberry vines right in front of me.
The garage has nothing to do with this. Can’t touch me. Can’t affect me, unless I choose to look at it. Which I can. If I want to.
I don’t see any sign of the Bush administration right now. The sun is setting, wispy white clouds are slowly blowing by, in my office there’s just me and my laptop.
I’m all for regime change in this country. However, right now Bush and his cronies are like the neighboring garage. They’re there, and that’s a fact. But I don’t have to attend to them unless I want to.
And especially, I don’t have to let myself be driven crazy by them.