It's no wonder the morning goes by so fast. First an hour, then two. I can't scroll fast enough. The realization has come and gone that I am wasting time, moments, minutes, seconds. But what else am I to do when the addiction that has consumed me has not been diagnosed? Yes, I am still only here for "connecting with high school friends" and keeping my mother updated on my life from afar. I am not to be blamed. It's not my fault. I am only doing what what comes natural: connecting. Who will save me? Who will save us?
History has a way of showing a man exactly who he is; the same can be said for time if they are not considered one in the same.
Over the past several months I have gone back and forth about addressing what I am seeing in the world today against what I believe to be true about the world and time.
History repeats itself.
What we see today we have seen before.
There are no innocent parties, no victims in the brutality that we see in the world.
Still, the truth of these statements do not comfort me. They do not silence the alarms sounding in my head or the voice in my ear telling me not to be afraid, or that now is the time for speaking up not the time for handing the baton off to someone else.
What is a girl to do when the world has grown silent in the face of injustice? When we shelter evil, stating it is our friend, brother, son, or daughter who is misunderstood.
We shelter evil because it is what lies within us all.
What we must remember is what happens when light exposes darkness, darkness can't run and hide for where will it go? What will it cling to once exposed? I see only two choices, either darkness doubles down, or it surrenders but because man has a hard time abandoning his most troubling habits the outcome is the world we live in today.
Darkness running rampant amongst us.
On the street corner, a man is doing his most important work, holding a white sign that reads "Jesus" in red letters in one hand and a Bible in the other. Dallas is his battlefield, as Kanye West's catchy song, Flashing Lights plays in the background, a sax player mimics the tune. The man is elderly and rambles to himself. I noticed from afar that his mouth moved as people walked by, but he spoke to no one.
I am curious. I want for the elderly man's story like someone starving for food or love. The exchange could be unique, enthralling, maybe even ethereal, as he has something that these bystanders do not. I wish to know what it is. It could be something forgotten or something as ancient as the pyramids. What would make a man stand at the corner of a busy intersection throwing the character of God at people?
As I approached, he shooed me away, just as my mother did when my sisters and I spoke too loudly in church. The sacred moment is not to be disturbed.
I am forced to watch from a distance remembering that my wants, needs, and desires are not more important than this man's purpose.
There is something enjoyable about watching the building burn.
The newly elected boss is burning down the entire building, and those that have been crucified, ridiculed and left behind wait in a gleeful quietness. They saw it coming.
The marginalized saw the corporate board and bosses set fire to the companies traditions, history, and culture.
The forgotten saw the wood truck pour in and saw leaders begin to unload the massive truck of timber.
They saw the fire setters enter the lobby and start to stack the wood.
One by one the piles were laid.
One by one the imminent destruction was gaining momentum.
They said nothing because long ago they had been told that this was not their company.
No skin in the game meant no care for the companies end.
They stood by because what is a man or woman to do but watch the company burn in hopes that something else, something better would erect in its place; and if not, at least the top, the leaders didn't have a sanctuary either.
I observed that there are men of the majority race who seek to retain their souls.
Opting for jobs as bartenders, servers, and coffee makers.
Opting out of the world where interruptions are competition and sexual innuendos are a part of the workplace banter.
These men appear happy and at peace with their life choice.
But what are they missing? Would it have been more fruitful to take part in the dance of their brothers?
Yes, college is more affordable for the kids of company men; winter vacations in the mountains are occasions to create social envy,
fast cars, and fancy dinners are the language of their cohorts.
But is this a benefit?
Described in the Holy Scriptures, our lives are like fog, we are here today and gone tomorrow.
Are the trade-offs, missed holidays and cold turkey dinners worth it?
If not, is it pursued out of boredom?
Oh, What absurdities are done in the name of boredom.
I stop cooking thyme into my scrambled eggs.
My husband hates the aromatic plant.
He says it gives the eggs a weird, earthy,
groundish sort of taste. He is so much of my joy, I oblige.
I heard a story of an older man who wanted a baby with his younger wife.
After trying for years, he suggested they see a doctor – she declined.
She believed that babies should happen naturally.
Over time they grew apart; he wanting kids, she unwilling.
They later divorced.
I guess that is what love is, what it requires of you.
If you love someone: you try for them, you sacrifice for them,
you go without for them, and sometimes love requires you to visit
a doctor for them.
In my case, love means I go without thyme in my eggs.