If landlords knew there was a potentially lethal gas mixed in with the air in their apartment building and decided not to tell the tenants, they’d no doubt be criminally charged were any of the tenants to get sick or, worse still, die. If, after learning about the presence of the lethal gas, the landlords decided to tell the tenants the building air was safe, would they be charged with first-degree murder?
Not for the first time I find myself thinking about the strength of character displayed by Dr. Martin Luther King. Jr and others who rejected all forms of violence and embraced nonviolence. And did so in the face of those who, unlike the Trump-McConnell White Power Movement, openly admitted that, Hell yeah, blacks have no business mixing with whites. Jews and Puerto Ricans and any black or brown folk, Native Americans, have no place mixing with the White Race.
The White race. Please. There is only one race. Humanity. The human race. And in the human race, there are all kinds of hair color and skin color and eye color, and there are freckles and those with no freckles. Bestowing decision-making power on skin pigmentation (color), is like sitting in front of a large rock, waiting for it to give you guidance on how best to manage your life. Rocks aren’t in the guidance business anymore than color is in the decision-making business.
Think of the human race as a library. No two books are alike, but they’re all books!
Dr. King said: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends”
We cannot remain silent when others are having their rights (including their voting rights) threatened or denied. We must all speak up in our own way, and do so nonviolently.
It is said that animals are most dangerous when wounded. This animal – me – was recently wounded by the unexpected death of my sister. I am in a take no prisoners mood, particularly with a few people whose shit treatment of me I have, until this morning, let slide. Life and its attending challenges are tough enough without having to deal with self-absorbed, no conscience wimps, who profess to all the world they are caring, loving people. Perhaps it was the likes of these folk that led to the term lip-service.
An old friend of mine once told me I was too patient with people. This may be true. That said, when someone with a lot of patience runs out of patience, the result is not pretty. Nor should it be. This morning I fired off a few emails ripping into a few of the above referenced individuals. While I took no pleasure in writing them, I don’t regret a single word, not even a syllable.
Setting aside the fact his beard makes Ted Cruz look like he was interrupted while eating roadkill, I have a hard time figuring out how he can lead a happy life.
I don’t think a human being can be driven by a lust for power and a sick venomous dishonesty, as evidenced by recently accusing Democrats of wanting to give voting rights to “illegal aliens” and “child molesters,” and be a happy human being at the same time. That much greed and dishonesty and cruelty coursing through your being does not result in nirvana.
That Senator Roadkill knows his charges are rubbish, doesn’t matter to him. If you can give the guy a pass who called your wife ugly, said your Dad helped assassinate President John F. Kennedy, no one should be surprised you scarf down roadkill.
To be clear, I don’t think any member of any party would want to give voting rights to illegal aliens and child molesters. Then again, perhaps Senator Roadkill doth protest too much.
If ever there was a fear with a justified place in the human experience, it is fear of intimacy. This pen is not referring to sex. People have sex every day in this land and beyond without a single iota of emotional intimacy. Sex and love-making are two different worlds.
This pen is talking about emotional and intellectual intimacy. I’m talking about allowing oneself to be yourself with another person and trusting it is safe to do so. No relationship of any kind can be a healthy, flourishing place to be if both people can’t fully be themselves with each other.
When you’ve absorbed enough wounds in life, such intimacy feels like an impossibility. However, because it feels like an impossibility does not mean it is one. For many of us, myself included, taking the risk of trusting is not a chump change endeavor – not by any measure. There is a close-to-my-heart saying I believe in. It’s okay to be afraid, don’t let it scare you. Meaning, if any of us wait for the fear to pass before we take the risk, we will remain stuck in place.
I have a relationship with my past wounds, my history. And, if there is one thing that gets my back up, it’s the very notion of giving my past wounds decision-making power. Yes, caution and patience are worthy allies. And with them at my side, I’ll be damned if I will allow my history to obliterate the possibility of a deeply loving relationship.