My Father's Question
by August Turak , in Personal Transformation
[caption id="attachment_6486" align="alignright" width="300"]
August Turak, Sr. with his children[/caption]
Interludes of openness and candor between my father and me were exceedingly rare. So rare in fact that I remember and treasure every one of them.
Several years before he died at 86 he suddenly said. "Augie, what you've built your life around is too abstract. People need things that are down to earth and tangible. Practical things they can feel and touch. What you're offering is too ethereal."
"I know what you mean Dad," I replied, "but that is exactly the point. What most folks consider real is what I find ethereal and what they think is ethereal is what I think is rock solid real."
He looked at me quizzically. "Look at it this way," I said. "Everything "practical" in this world is constantly decaying, changing, and moving under our feet. It seems like just yesterday that you planted all those seedling evergreens in our yard and now they are so big we're going to have to take them out. You've invested a life in this house but no matter what you do it will soon return to dust.
"As soon as I think I'm sure of something in this world someone comes around and makes me doubt. No matter where I look I find life slipping and sliding and moving around. You can never seem to know anything for sure or pin anything or anyone down once and for all.
"I've spent my life trying to distinguish what IS true from what only seems true. Dad, it is our normal everyday tangible life that only seems real but is actually ethereal. Meanwhile spirituality seems ethereal but is actually rock hard solid."
My Dad didn't say anything. He just turned and walked away. My father was perhaps the most solid and tangible worldly thing I ever knew. And then one day he was gone and there was nothing I could do to bring him back..
August Turak, Sr. with his children[/caption]Interludes of openness and candor between my father and me were exceedingly rare. So rare in fact that I remember and treasure every one of them.
Several years before he died at 86 he suddenly said. "Augie, what you've built your life around is too abstract. People need things that are down to earth and tangible. Practical things they can feel and touch. What you're offering is too ethereal."
"I know what you mean Dad," I replied, "but that is exactly the point. What most folks consider real is what I find ethereal and what they think is ethereal is what I think is rock solid real."
He looked at me quizzically. "Look at it this way," I said. "Everything "practical" in this world is constantly decaying, changing, and moving under our feet. It seems like just yesterday that you planted all those seedling evergreens in our yard and now they are so big we're going to have to take them out. You've invested a life in this house but no matter what you do it will soon return to dust.
"As soon as I think I'm sure of something in this world someone comes around and makes me doubt. No matter where I look I find life slipping and sliding and moving around. You can never seem to know anything for sure or pin anything or anyone down once and for all.
"I've spent my life trying to distinguish what IS true from what only seems true. Dad, it is our normal everyday tangible life that only seems real but is actually ethereal. Meanwhile spirituality seems ethereal but is actually rock hard solid."
My Dad didn't say anything. He just turned and walked away. My father was perhaps the most solid and tangible worldly thing I ever knew. And then one day he was gone and there was nothing I could do to bring him back..