Heaven

I actually have a lot to write about, things I want to hash out-- storyboarding a video (YMAA wants to film two in September and there is a third I'd like to do) designing a two day cop class intended to integrate with two other exceptional instructors, stuff like that. But a thought just hit hard.

I'm in Central Oregon, visiting family. People I genuinely like. I had a heaven thought.

I don't believe in or really care for the concept of heaven. I'll go so far as to say that, in the christian sense, belief in heaven is the original sin, not disobedience, but that's for another time. Heaven just makes for a convenient shorthand in our culture.

What could you do forever and not come to hate it? Mark Twain pointed out that even the most beautiful voice in the world can only hold an audience's attention for two hours.

Sipping coffee with my mom would be on the list. Smart and fun and interesting and tough, she is a cool person. And other things, too. Holding hands with K. I half expect to die that way, if I die peacefully. A memory of a breakfast in Baghdad, a moment of perfect serenity that could easily transition to eternity. A dinner in Boston with good friends. Sitting near a rushing river, looking at the stars with my daughter. There are a few brawls that I remember the sadness when they ended because the perfection had been so intense. A hookah bar in Boston with good friends, watching a Haifa video. Sitting around a campfire with Toby. Telling and hearing stories at the August Babies bonfire with old comrades and brothers.

There are many things I enjoy and love, but only a few that in the moment feel timeless. Talking to my mom this morning was one of those.