Thought • Changing Normal
Society does not know normal–a positive step in the right direction. We need to lose more than normal. To see society move forward, we must embrace diversity, not only in people but thought and debate.
Society does not know normal–a positive step in the right direction. We need to lose more than normal. To see society move forward, we must embrace diversity, not only in people but thought and debate.
At night, a cool hazy sky offers a few speckled dots. Dim lights of hope surrounded by dimmer lights of hope. Closer to the city, the distraction of life, obscures even the brightest of lights. This is unsustainable. There is no space to breathe, hope suffocated by complacency. A complacency indicating, they believe they’ve made it. But what is it? Those dim lights, they are a map away from the impermanent to the eternal. They pull you into their mystery, wondering where it is, how close or far.
Find a space, where the physical distraction fades and the only thing to keep you from noticing are your own thoughts. Where your thoughts are pulled left and right by the never ceasing grasp of stress. Move quickly away from the physical pressure, seeking the solace that the dark sky offers. Near the city, that expanse is blank, but for a few spots. The further away what is offered as clear sky, becomes a cacophony of points where worlds are to be found. It’s complex. It’s beautiful. It’s a hope and life-giving source.
A peculiar, physical girl was furiously digging through the piles in the closet. She was intent on finding her favorite hat. A light pink cap with blue jean bill and rainbow lettering spelling what it communicated. Shrieking, when she found it between the wall and a basket, she emphatically placed the hat on her head with little care for fit or placement. Standing a little taller, she slid her bright pink, dark sunglasses behind her ears, below the hat. Her hair down straight with a little flair.
It was dry that day.
Bundled in a shade of pink zip up sweatshirt and a pair of dark pants, she scurried towards the mud room, again in search of a lost item that shouldn’t be lost. Finally finding her shoes, she slams down on the floor to put them on, her mind not really thinking about the act, but rather, the next, next activity. Placing one brightly, multi-colored sock with a panda into the shoe, she asked about her lunch. Moving to the next foot, covered by a single colored, pale pink sock, which is probably her sisters.
She was already standing.
The proudest look on her face with her outfit now completed.
It was a regular school day.
One fork, one bowl, one knife, one plate. Reducing my possessions to the items that I absolutely need is a pursuit worth its weight in gold. It is an exercise in self-reflection, introspection and progress. Needing and using only a few things is growth in all areas. Excess is a sign of laziness, complacency, undisciplined living.
I’m wearing his shoes. The ones he was wearing when he died. Bright orange interior, with two shades of gray on the exterior. The tongue, orange yet striped by white laces. Not for running, but also not for their style. I’m two inches taller when I stand in them, not because of my pride. They are orthopedic. I’ve found them to be comfortable and comforting. Shoes travel with us and help us travel. They were bought in Texas. Most likely a local store. A few racks, disheveled, but a large store. It’s one of those stores that has been there forever. He mostly likely would know the workers by full name or know what their futures held for them. He’d make a joke on his way out to the van. The van that killed him.