Minivan Malaise

Do you ever wonder how you got where you are?

One day your singing along with Tears for Fears and before you know its 25 years later and you're shoveling manure... literally shoveling manure... and not for fun.

Its like being separated six degrees from yourself. There is a very clear connection but the lines between the various iterations of yourself are mysterious and confusing.

Let me explain.

I had a very brief, like a week or two kind of brief, period of time when I wanted to be a smoke jumper. For those of you unfamiliar with smoke jumping, it is the vocation where one boards an airplane, places a parachute on ones back, straps 100 pounds of gear onto ones self, and then jumps from said airplane into a forest fire. These brave humans provide the important and necessary service of building fire lines and back-burning in the attempt to keep fires under control in the remote areas of the west. To me smoke jumping is pure adventure.

Oh adventure - where did you go? What have you done with yourself?

The point is that at one time, not so terribly long ago, I wanted to jump out of an airplane into the woods to fight fire. And now, sitting in my drive way, are two Minivans.

The shame of it.

Technically we own two minivans. It is a real tragedy. For some the minivan is the representation of pure banality. It is where adventure, and passion, and substance go to die. It is where poetry is silenced. It is where the warrior whimpers. Where doves cry.

"Everything that you have ever loved no longer matters", it says to you from its sliding doors.
Its 20 cup holders scald, "Your life is a charade and your work is meaningless"
"Exercise can be replaced with hot coffee", it says to you.
"In a pinch you can use me as a hearse", it teases.
"You'll never be carded again", it chortles from its hide-a-way seats

If you listen to your minivan it will poison you. It will try to convince you of its lies. Even though it is unarguably the most practical choice, with the best gas mileage and flexibility and utility, it will also try to convince you that just outside its doors, lying is wait, is the grave.

But the poison and practicality are illusion. We must press on. We must ask again:
Adventure - where did you go? What have you done with yourself?

And Adventure will reply:
"I'm am here under your nose.
I have woven myself into the velour of this vehicle.
Load up your family and drive to Florida, stopping for colas and candies on the way.
You see that real adventure is within, and that is why I've given you this van.
It is in your heart where I will do my best work.
In your heart... and then your mind"