When I find myself on the john, bereft of phone or tablet, I will often reach into the nearby drawer and pull out this book. It's "Fire in the Head," (by Tom Cowan) a book on Celtic shamanism. I've had it since I lived in Scotland for a time - many, many moons ago.
Maybe because of Father's Day, today it jogged my memory that my dad, when he was so indisposed, always read the "Every Man's Bible," (a Bible for men?) which gathered dust and grew dog-eared on the top of the water closet. Is it a habit I unknowingly picked up? Unlike some folks, my father wasn't really someone I aspired to be like. He was himself, which is fine, but there were qualities I hoped to avoid inheriting, shall we say. Sometimes, when I get out of the shower, my hair slicked back and my body older, I can see him in the mirror. I don't love it. My dad had some sort of reverence for the Bible, regardless of the hollowed place he kept his. He would ask me what I thought certain passages meant, which in retrospect, I'm a little surprised and moved by as an adult looking back; that he would consult his youngest son. I don't remember him ever quoting much of the Bible when he was alive. I do remember words of advice like, "Don't ask a man how much money he has" and "Don't look inside a man's fence." Both good rules, I suppose.
Suffice it to say, the smallest moment can take you down Memory Lane. As this seemed a little apropos for the day, I thought I'd share it. No surprise Rodin's "Thinker" was in a seated position. 1. The Every Man's Bible is "a man's Bible—with straight talk about the challenges of life." Uh, okay.