Rolling to My Death in Kansas… Or Not

Yesterday I asked if Bill Shakespeare was right. Is life “a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing?” How do you know?

Not long ago, I came to a stop at a red light at 31st Street and Southwest Trafficway in Kansas City, MO, just three blocks from my house. Going east like I was, the intersection is at the crest of a half mile long hill called Signal Hill. (I already know what many are thinking. Yes, Kansas City has hills. The city itself was built on what was originally a 100 ft. bluff overlooking the Missouri River. You see, several million years ago there were certain geological events… but I digress.)

While waiting at the light and tapping fingers to some innocuous CD, I immediately sensed something was wrong. My car was slowly rolling backwards. My foot went down harder on the brake but there was no response. My foot was now practically pushing the brake pedal through the floor board. I began to have visions of steering an ever accelerating car backwards down a hill into Kansas. (The state line is at the bottom of the hill.) My eyes shifted to my right as I reached to grab the emergency brake. As my eye caught the scene out the side window I became really confused.

The sign post out the right side of my car was either perfectly still or sliding down the hill with me. I was inclined to reject that second possibility as it has been my experience that sign posts are usually quite stationary. My head whipped back to the left when suddenly all became clear. I wasn’t moving at all! The SUV beside me was inching slowly forward into the intersection. My eyes deceived me. They told me the SUV was standing still and I was rolling backwards. Good thing the double-take exposed the illusion. I would have looked pretty silly bailing out of a stationary car at one of Kansas City’s busiest intersections.

But back to Bill’s question. Are we living the purposeless driven life and brother Warren is just an illusion? There is an old philosophy question that asks, “If I have a dream about being a butterfly, how do I know that at this moment I am not a butterfly dreaming I am a man?” Or maybe Rick Warren is really a butterfly dreaming he is a pastor? If so, how did he manage to type the book with little butterfly feet? (Now my head hurts.) All I know is, I don’t want roll backward down a hill to certain death in Kansas. Nor do I want to live a life that is an illusion.

Speaking of illusions, try clicking on this thing below:


Illusion