There’s so much I wish would change.
I am sure you feel the same way, too.
Problem is sometimes what I want to change are those that would, if they could, transform me into a variation of them. And, yeh, that’s about the same thing I want to do to them.
What is it about us that insists others should live as we want them to? Could it simply be arrogance or pride or that old self-aggrandizing, snide sense of entitlement? Why is it so many of us think the disenfranchisement of others is caused by some thing or somebody over there.?
I believe that who we are is a complex web of yin-yang attributes. Good and evil are coupled together. The same with love and hate. You get the picture. Who we are is about which we way we are pulled or influenced to lean. Sometimes we actually do not realize which way we turned or why.
Raise your hand if you are against racism. Continue reading To not be a racist you have to know you are a racist.
Buddha and I were having a beer. Actually he ordered a hard cider. Before he invited me out to the bar, I had always thought Buddha didn’t partake. Come to think of it I never pictured him doing much more than sit on his ass with a big grin on his face. After a few ciders, I clued into the cause of his happiness.
We lived in the same neighborhood. We first met at Max and Cherry’s Laundromat and Gift Shoppe. We were folding clothes at adjacent tables. He was buttoning up a Hawaiian shirt when a long sigh left his mouth. I looked at him and he caught my eye. He smiled and nodded toward the shirt. Just remembering, he said. Have you been?
Maui, I replied. I swam with a sea turtle.
Buddha chuckled. They sure do stick their necks out when they want something.
When he first introduced himself, I misunderstood and thought he said, Buddy.
Hi Buddy,” I said, shaking his chubby hand. My name is Mark.
He mumbled something I couldn’t make out, but before I could ask him to say it again, Cherry appeared. She was behind my new friend and could barely touch her fingers as her arms wrapped around his belly.
It’s so good to see you, she said.
She extended her hand toward me. Hi, I’m Cherry.
I shook her hand but in the process brushed my fingers against Buddy’s belly. I remember thinking it was simultaneously as hard as a turtle shell and as soft as a cumulus cloud.
I am Mark, I said. Continue reading The Joy of Knowing Buddy
I am not really here
though I think I am.
I could be living life
over there (you know)
where I cannot abide.
But I’m not. It appears
I think too much.
Wherever I am,
I am there and here
So please, let me take my seat
and sit this one out.
I will watch everything
and provide eloquent criticism
from my very safe place.
You know, like everybody does