Try Better. On More Days. Even When You’re Sad.

August 6th, 2015 § 0 comments

Every comfort I have is at someone else’s expense. This coffee, the central air, the cotton shirt hanging from my shoulders. I draw from the entire world so I don’t get hot or itchy or tired. Each house on the block contains people doing the same thing. Zoom out. Zoom out, zoom out.


I am on the receiving end of the world, part of a straw sucking at the last bit of juice circling the glass.


For what is my output? I struggle to write. I struggle with my feelings. I struggle with imagined fear-based realities. I try to bring love to all of my interactions but afterwards I need a nap. Certainly, I feel guilt. And how utterly boring. To my disappointment, guilt no longer motivates me. Shame no longer motivates me. They only serve as a force behind the “fuck-it” to run the water until it’s hot.


I could walk naked to the farm down the road to buy berries, but they use diesel tractors and sprinklers during droughts. I can only live at my own expense if my community, at the very least, is doing the same.


Oppression is certainly well thought out. I’m placing my bets on the model’s inherent instability. There will be a revolution. How hard will I be overthrown?


Maybe I’m not the problem. I do try my best most days. There are so many people who don’t even try. I encourage others to try and forgive them when they don’t. I forgive myself when I don’t. Maybe I’m too forgiving. Forgiveness is at someone else’s expense.


In short, it’s not enough. People are doing incredible, monumental work, giving their precious life to their cause. I am not one of them. And it’s not enough. Or maybe it’s enough, but certainly not fast enough. For me to do my best on most days when I’m not too sad is quite definitely not enough.


One voice that says: “you are not enough”

The other says: “it is not enough.”


I’m living on borrowed money, borrowed time. We are running out of gas. This comfort is going to trickle dry. Probably not for me right away. Definitely for others it’s already happened. Mostly, I think we are the unlucky ones who will live to see the end. Maybe there’s something magical on the other side? Mostly, I think not.


Maybe we will live in small, local communities and share food and skills. That would be nice, I think. But probably we will fight until the bitter, bloody end. Peace without war? I’m surprised to find myself on this side of the question.


I just don’t want to live at anyone else’s expense. What I’m truly asking for is for freedom. I don’t know how to rip off the comfort, wholly and completely. If I did, I might. I am taking the longer road, as in the general stripping away, because it’s all I know and hope I live long enough to be able to give back what I take. So I will try better on more days, maybe even if I am too sad.

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