Not Out of Apathy…

I was having a conversation with someone tonight that began with voting and politics… A unifying topic if ever there was one, right? There wasn’t much talking with one another, mostly at, but, it did get me thinking…

How do you best go about making the changes you’d like to see in the world?

Well, for me, I have to realize that about the only thing I can really change is myself. There’s a lot that I would like to see done differently of course. I am not saying I am helpless…But it saves me a lot of headaches and heartache when I stop expecting to be able to change the world by just wishing it were different. Or sitting in contemplation of how much better things would be if they were only the way I wanted them to be… I spent a lot of time doing that. A LOT.

Anyway, within the conversation, I was asked if I vote… I have a confession to make, I don’t. That wasn’t recieved well by the other party on the phone. Truth be told, they had some valid points. I have mixed feelings about it myself. One side of me says “Anne, you are not a responsible citizen,” while the other says “Hey! you’re not batshit crazy–you’re doing pretty good!”

I know myself. I do not handle current events well. I don’t vote because I am doing my best to stay useful… It’s not out of apathy. I do not handle politics and vitriol. It’s just so damn negative.

When I let that negativity in, I am useless. I soak it up like a pessimistic sponge. Bleak and despairing, I lay in bed wanting to cancel all my plans and check out of reality for a while.

Does that make me a weak person? Perhaps… But as they say, it is what it is. I’m just trying to avoid those black holes. You see, I’m trying to be a spiritual person on the path of goodness.

I don’t always know what that means but I try to learn a little more every day. One thing that I have learned is that we all have gifts. Things that we have been blessed with.. or given.. or however you want to phrase it.

Some of us are great artists and musicians, who add great beauty to the world. Some of us are scientists and mathematicians, inventing and solving. Some are made for politics and bureaucracy and business, left-brained and logical. Some of us are mothers, nurturing all those around us. Some of us build– some of us sew. Who is to say which of these is more important?

I don’t know. I certainly don’t want to go around pretending that I know what the most important job is… the most important duty. I guess I think it’s my responsibility to see how I can be most useful to those around me. So far that has meant a lot of one-on-one conversations. A lot of hands held and tears shed. Laughter shared, vulnerabilities revealed. There has been healing and growth and seeking. And I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, but my heart feels full. That means something–it has not always been that way.

I know there’s a lot going on in that great big world out there. Maybe I’m a little idealistic, maybe naïve, but looking at what’s going right and building on that is the only way I have found to be in the stream of life and connected to the world around me. Perhaps that is the key. For each of us to find our path to fulfillment, our role to play in this world and to go forward with love. I have to believe that is what really makes a change. The evidence of the power of love is there in my life.

Something Different

I decided to do a little something different for this post. I’m currently in a creative writing class and just recently roughed out a short story. It needs some work for sure but here it is…

Sally’s Fountain of Youth

There was no place she had loved more in that little town. Naturally, she wanted to share it with her best friend Brooke.

Mom had finally consented to the weekend road trip. “It’s only a 2-hr drive Mom! I promise we’ll be really good. Come on, I haven’t been there in forever. And it was my favorite place ever. Please!” Sally had relentlessly pursued this goal. The day had been something she had dreamed of since they had left 3 years ago. It was going to be amazing…

But what she found was not what she remembered. The magic of the place was gone.

“It doesn’t look like it used to,” she said sadly to her friend Brooke. “It used to be really pretty.”

The two young girls stood in front of a fountain at a park in town. They were old enough now to walk around by themselves, and still young enough to wander in adventure. The fountain was crumbling, but had probably been impressive at some point. It was a figure of a horse, rearing back. The mane was made to look as if it were waving in the wind. The eyes of the beast seemed to possess a fury almost tangible. But upon closer inspection, bits and pieces had fallen away. Both from the beast, and the pool around it. Kids still liked to toss pennies in, hoping their wishes would come true.

Sally had brought Brooke here to show her. This fountain was the foundation of her childhood. She had come to this park as often as she could.

She had pretended she was a cowgirl; the horse was her partner. She had found it in the wild and tamed it herself. She was the only one that could ride it.

She was a warrior Queen wielding a sharp silver sword. Her and her steed moved as swift as shadows across the battlefield.

Sometimes she was a horse herself, and she galloped freely with her fellows. She breathed in the crisp mountain air through flared nostrils. Her own mane flew in the wind. Free.

“Yeah, it looks kinda like crap,” said Brooke in her characteristic bluntly honest manner, “But I’m sure it was really cool.” She added lamely after seeing the look on Sally’s face.

“It was,” Sally said wistfully.

“Did your Dad ever come with you here?” Brooke asked.

“No. It was usually just me and Mom. Sometimes the babysitter. Dad was… sick a lot.”

“Oh. Like sick how?”

“Just sick. I don’t know. He just was.”

“Did he have cancer? Is he still alive? I don’t think I’ve ever heard your mom talk about him? Does he still live here?” Brooke was a stream of questions.

“Geez Brooke. He was just sick. Okay? Do you have to ask so many questions?”

“Sorry…”

“It’s fine. It’s just. I don’t know. Hard to talk about.”

The two girls kept walking past the fountain and further into the park. There was the swing set Sally remembered. Had it always been like this, so rundown? The woodchips beneath the playground needed to be replenished. The plastic of the slides was pale and unexciting. They sat down on the swing set. Their shoes pushed the dirt around as they moved idly from side to side. They didn’t swing. They were too mature for that now. Too grown up.

Brooke looked over at her friend Sally. She was blond and pretty, still with the soft features of childhood. Her eyes were blue and very serious. When she laughed, they lit up. But when she was lost in thought, her whole face darkened. That’s the way she looked now.

“Are you okay?” Brooke asked her.

“Yes.”

She wasn’t really okay. She had started to remember things. Things she did not want to remember. Things she wasn’t even sure if she did remember. She wouldn’t talk about them with anyone. Not yet. But she had realized things recently.

She knew why they had had to leave 3 years ago. She hadn’t wanted to go. She had begged her mother to let them stay. She didn’t want to leave Daddy behind, her friends, her teachers. She had cried and cried when Mom told her they had to leave. “Why? Mom, I love it here. We can’t leave. We don’t have to leave. Please don’t make me.” She had pleaded desperately. Her mother had looked down upon her sweet little blond-haired daughter in her polka dot dress and cried with the desperation of a lost woman.

They had packed only a couple of bags and left in the middle of the night. Daddy came running out after them when he heard the door slam. It was a blur. He was holding something in his arms. Maybe his hunting rifle, but then again, who knows what Sally saw that night. She was only 8.

All she wanted to remember from those years was the joy she felt at the park. The imagination fired by the fountain. She had thought maybe if they came here… Maybe if she shared it with Brooke… Maybe then she would remember the right things. The good things. The true things.

But sometimes the fantasy was not strong enough to suppress the truth. And sometimes the truth was terrible.

She sat there on the swingset with a heavy heart. Much too heavy for an 11-year-old. And she didn’t know where to turn.

Abruptly Brooke was in her face. She had jumped off her swing and marched right over to her taciturn friend.

“Look!” she said. “I don’t know what’s going on with you. And I’m sorry I said that fountain was crappy. It’s really nice. I actually like it. And I don’t know about your dad. My uncle was sick too. And I don’t know what they meant, but one of my cousins said that meant crazy. So, maybe that’s why I wanted to know. Plus, I’m your best friend! And we share everything. Remember, pinky promise? And I promise, I will always be here for you. I am your bff. So. There. I said it.” Brooke finished breathlessly.

Sally got out of the swing and gave her best friend a hug. The first broken piece began to heal as a tear fell down her cheek. The love of her friend was a truth that didn’t need to be suppressed.

What You Look for is What You’ll See

As long as I can recall, I have struggled with feeling a sense of disconnect with my surroundings. I have a dual nature, and though at times very positive, it can be equally depressive. It then urges me to see every negative thing, every flaw, in myself and the world around me. It tells me this is necessary–this is the truth.

I look around and see war, I see corruption, deceit, disunity. I see people fighting one another, on physical, digital, emotional, spiritual planes. Lemmings all scrambling to be the best, disregarding the consequences visited upon those around them. Sometimes I see the pursuit of pleasure at the expense of humanity and connection.

A world obsessed with instant gratification to the extent that they are blocked from any sort of true gratification.

I would be lying if I said I never fell into this trap. I still do sometimes. Maybe that is why it is so hard for me to feel harmony. I am still fighting my own demons, my own self-centeredness.

The thing of it is though, I can change my perspective. What I focus on grows and grows.

I remember reading once that every thing, every situation, every person is comprised of darkness and light.

We choose what to focus on. My fear tells me to focus on the darkness, that I might shield myself from it. What ends up happening is the darkness envelopes me. Every part of me. Mind, body, spirit. It has the exact opposite effect of what I am hoping.

When I focus on the light, the world is brighter. I see goodness around me. I see strangers helping strangers. I witness movements toward communication, toward tolerance and acceptance. I see people striving against the negative influences out there. Not everyone is blindly following the masses. And not everything is negative.

Sometimes, it is easy for me to look back upon the past and envision it as a perfect place. A simple place. “The Good Ol’ Days” A place where people got along, where life wasn’t bogged down with cellphones and television and the vast world of the internet. But that simply isn’t true, is it? There may not have been cellphones, TV, and the internet, but there was that time period’s equivalent.

The deeper you dig into any situation involving humans, the more apparent it becomes that though the scenery has changed, we are simply playing out a story told a thousand times.

So…at times my dark mind tells me that as a society, we are moving more and more toward disunity; that the ridiculous amount of leisure and self-centered activities that drive us each day are driving a wedge between us and our fellows.

But! My light mind knows there are many good things about life and people. Love, friendship, ease of communication and travel. There’s a plethora of positives in this world today.

It is one thing to acknowledge darkness in the world and try to do what you can to change it. It is fully another thing to see the darkness and let it consume you, rendering you depressed and useless.. What I find is that I then end up contributing more to that very same darkness.

I myself must go forward with hope. With hope and love in my heart. It is the only way I have ever found a hint of harmony. May I continue to remember that and cultivate that attitude day by day.