Conversations with Life, #3

Hard Stuff, Life, Obstacles/Challenges, Peace/Conflict, Social Justice, Uncategorized, Writing

Life,

It’s M again and today, I want to kill someone, or die.  No. Neither of those is true, but I’m consumed, eaten with rage at another round of mass murders, this time impacting people I know and care about.  All these mass gun murders deeply touch my soul, but this was in my home state, in my college community, and it punched me in the heart.

I consider myself a reasonable person, compassionate, and willing to see all sides of an issue, but I’m done.  I’m done trying to understand the perspective of people who seem to not care that guns are used daily to murder and terrorize hundreds and thousands of innocent people in this country.  I’m done with the bullying and threatening and open-carry intimidation when legislators and citizens try to get even minimal gun control laws on the books.

There is no reason here.  There is no attempt to meet in the middle, no attempt to understand suffering, or even agreement that sometimes, sometimes, an individual’s right to carry a weapon is trumped by another individual’s right to simply live.

How do I move forward so gorged with hatred and fear?  All I feel capable of doing is violence.

Dear M,

There is no reasoning with fear.  And there is no way to understand another person’s particular, personal terror.  There is also nothing that says you have to try.  It is your choice to try or not, and there are consequences either way. Your ability to move through this time may feel compromised and it is up to you to take the necessary steps to help yourself cope in a way that aligns with who you are.

You are not hatred. You are not rage or fear or abject, gibbering terror.  None of you are but many of you don’t remember that.  Many of you live in that profound, unconscious state of terror every day.  It is exhausting for every single one of you living on that planet, but that is the nature of the human condition, and your greatest individual challenge.

Remembering that you are NOT a being made of fear, cowering in a darkened cave is the hardest act and the greatest.

Always,

Life

Rocks in the water

It's Personal, Reflection, Uncategorized, Writing

And she said

“I’m tired and, and I can’t tell anyone why.  It’s a tired that wells down to the bottom of my soul, a tired that has nothing to do with my shell, my physical home.  It’s the tired of carrying an endless, invisible burden that can never be relinquished, the tired of opening and shutting, opening and shutting.  It’s the tired that sips and sips until there is nothing left to drink from the well that should never run dry, the tired that comes from taking out all the paints, then putting them away again, dry and stiff.  It’s the tired of holding steady against the never-ending assault, the onslaught of drudgery and sadness, the tired of repetitive repeating repeated repeats.

I can’t tell anyone why because it’s the tired of a being on this planet, in this time, in this moment.  It’s carrying around the burden of need and want and desire and fear and hate and anger, the weight of  the grindstone of life.

They tell me there is a balance, I hear voices say “find your center, find your ground, everything will fall into place once you are more balanced.” When I hear those voices, I envision myself with a rock, pounding laundry in the river, the water washing and running and dragging the wet cloth behind.  Rocks, pounding on rocks, endlessly rushing water soothing weary clothes.  The clothes are clean, the water doesn’t notice.

I hear that Beauty (with a capital) makes all things Better (also with a capital).  I have yet to Believe in  such magical nonsense.  Magic, opiate of the Believers.  Sometimes, I wish I did.  Believe.  Or not Believe.  Would that Beauty would work such magic for me, such magic that the weight of human beingness would be somehow different, would lighten instead of leaven.”

She sat down, in the river, and picked up a rock.