Pachinko

There is an art to falling. Maybe the art is being o.k. with falling gracefully. I feel a need to will myself into more-success, an ubermensch of increase, a More-Hero, when most of the time it seems all I can muster is a beautiful reaction to gravity, sometimes not so beautiful. My friends just lost all there stuff to The Bank. I heard them packing it up this morning, as I was wiping the crust from my eyes. He is probably feeling guilty for not being able to stop the slide. He is very hard working and so is his lovely wife. They have two great kids. Hearing them this morning made me think of the fortunes we create while we sleep, while we dream, from non action. I though there must be an exacting phrase in some value intensive manifest destiny language some where to describe this feeling. A phrase that originated in a future/classical tale obscured by the frantic cascade of now info. An allegory of the diversity pilgrims sharing their tales when finally it was the Japanese specialists turn- the cardiologists tale. They are moving back into her childhood home in rural Pennsylvania. I have to admit I envy their change.