The Cosmos Squeezes Me

Somewhere in the archives of memory arises the felt experience and imagery of being Uncle Sam in one grade school play and Father Time in another. The roles appeared suitable as my consciousness opened to the nation as a whole and to the cosmos. This awareness continued its growth and continues its expansion and depth even now. I remember that my Mama sewed red stripes down the leg sides of a pair of blue pants for the Uncle Sam outfit. She was an avid seamstress, pedaling away on her Singer sewing machine, replacing bobbins of thread with dexterity. For my Father Time beard, she cut a sheet of paper into long strips attached at one end, curling the strips by pulling her closed scissors down each strip. My costume was a white sheet formed into a gown.

Further grade school memories include the third grade Mrs. Bland who tolerated no dissent. She wanted no part of my insistence that "a quarter until the hour" was 25 until (since a quarter was 25 cents). No recognition of my poetic genius! 

Fourth grade was another matter. My reading skills were excellent by then. I had no hesitance at reading aloud in class when called upon. As a result, I was taken to the 6th grade class, pushed into the front of the staring older kids, and commanded to read. I did, all the while feeling like a trained monkey. It seemed to go well. No one tried to beat me up on the playground.

By sixth grade, my performance career was enhanced through my learning a synopsis of the history of Georgia ("In 1732, James Oglethorpe …") for a school focus on the glories of our state (Georgia was originally founded as a non-slavery state. Oglethorpe wanted no part of that.) My performance was evidently enough of a success to warrant my being called out of class unexpectedly, taken downtown to the radio station, thrust in front of a microphone, and asked to do my do. Though startled and more than a little shy, I managed to recite my way through it.

You ask how it is that I became a professor, workshop leader, expounder of esoteric doctrine? The clues are all there, my dear. The cosmos squeezed me into that form, that continuous forming.