posted on Nov, 18 2015 @ 12:38 AM
There is this reality: You are warm and full in the space where you live. Maybe the dishwasher hums in the background and it's night and sleep will
come soon. Tomorrow you will wake up as you have your whole life, and feel the warmth of the water in your shower. or smile at your children. or look
for your keys, or pour Cheerios into your bowl. You are lulled right now into believing that the world will march on, that if you don't look too
closely your world will go on and that your beer is still cold in the 'fridge and that your birthday is coming and your bank is around the corner
where the friendly girl at the counter smiles at you when you come in the door.
There is safety in that world that you inhabit, where routine and habits shape your life, where things appear to carry on in a concerted way, ambling
along like your car on your way to work. You look around your space and there are things that mean the most to you within arms length and there's
this feeling that things are as they should be.
And then there is this reality: Things seem askew when you look too closely at them---those things in your life that always seemed permanent and
stable and comfortable appear like apparitions when you squint your eyes. It's hard to reach for things with confidence---a new job, a new house, a
proud future, because part of you knows things have changed and your footing in the world doesn't leave the same deep footprint. You are walking
with less confidence, although sometimes it isn't perceptible---even to you. But look closely at the marks you leave on the earth and you will see
that they are not the shoe prints of a sure-footed person walking towards tomorrow.
You aren't certain of anything if you really think about it---not the way you used to be when your were 10 and lived on Elm Street and your dad
worked at the same office for 30 years. You see the carnage on television--body parts and bombs---and it shakes the cocoon you are living in a bit.
The contours of your life feel blurred sometimes, like someone has taken an eraser to the lines that define who you are.
You know that the changes that you see----the blurring of borders, the outlandish price of things, the forced parade of materialism , the audacity of
Hollywood, the sexualization of your children, the breakdown of the only society you've ever known----you know there is some sinister reason causing
these changes, but it's hard to clearly see who is behind the curtain, and because of this you don't admit your uncertainty---even to yourself.
Without a culprit you can describe down to the buttons on his shirt, you are shy of your own suspicions. Rather than examine the evidence with a
microscope, you blame whoever is in reach---your president, your boss, your banker.
Besides, everyone around you seems to be okay. They show up for work, they visit their accountants, they sit at the bar laughing late into the night.
They send pictures of their trips to faraway places and they go to the market and they open their garage doors at 6:00 and march inside.
These two realities----the one you live and the one you intuit---they are at odds. You adjust your bearings and pretend its okay---you've got less
money, your relatives have cancer, your freedoms are stolen, your TV blares horrible news every single day, but you adjust your bearings no matter
what, because you can always walk into your little space and hear the dishwasher hum and touch the braids on your daughter's head and bake the
chicken in the oven and turn off the TV.
But it's getting harder now to adjust the horizontal lines on the big picture. It used to be you could simply turn a little dial in the back and
things would become clear, but no amount of turning now makes the picture right.
There are these two realities--- the one that you live and one that you're afraid might be real, the two realities you used to hold at arms length,
on opposite sides of your body, a world away from one another...but you're not as strong anymore.
Because what's happening on the outside is weakening you on the inside---even when you've slammed the door tightly on it to keep it at bay. Now when
you walk out the door, there it is, like some sinister taxi that hopes to drive you to work.
At some point, you're going to have to look at it for real, and then you must walk out your door and defend all those things inside your space that
mean so much to you.
It's horrible to swim out here in the truth, but it's noble.
Because it's true that all great and honorable actions are begot with great difficulties, and must be confronted and overcome with courage. Granted
the dangers are great, but not desperate; the difficulties are many, but not invincible.