Some Day A Long Time From Now

I woke up before the alarm, well before the alarm, but it was the second time since I’d gone to bed the night before just after midnight. I don’t remember my dreams, and so I can’t say what had me tossing and turning all night, and both times that I awoke, words and more words swirled and dove and confused, out of order, making no sense sort of words, connected to nothing words.

So, the second time I just said F it and tossed off the covers and gave up. Gave in maybe, and heated up the coffee left in the French Press from the morning before, let the dog out, let the dog in, let the dog out after she had her morning treat, and let her back in, all bouncy and bright and happy we were up, and frankly I’m not convinced she didn’t have something to do with why I was up, but she was all the way over there zonked out when I came out of the bathroom upon my initial steps into the waking world, so who knows.

After the ceremony of waking had been performed, as it is every morning, I was finally able to sit down and do what my mangled mind had been wrestling with all night, and went on to YouTube to see what news vids were up, what things could I learn, know, see, as if my unconscious mind was grasping at these just out of reach words to describe this sense of confusion and emotion that welled inside, kept me tossing and turning all night.

“You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is like an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.” 

Mahatma Gandhi

Even then, even now, hour and a half since, maybe now I can not yet express that sense of turmoil, but at least I can determine its cause, and see the roots of it come from a grief, of stupified horror at the events of the last few days, and the complete disregard for the human tragedy,  for the losses, for their significance, for the reason that they were gunned down, and maybe it’s the name of the Synagogue, The Tree Of Life and my deep affinity with trees, of that affection I have always had towards the Jewish people, their long story, their faith, beliefs, their rituals, and their continued prosecution millennia after millennia.

I  mentioned briefly yesterday concerning the visit the 45th has insisted on, of going to Pittsburgh even though the Mayor himself has asked him to wait, to let them bury their dead. But no, the White House will have none of that, ignore the plea, as the Mayor has said that he does not have enough officers to protect the funerals that will be held, AND, protect this Inciter in Chief.

That intangible thing, that word that was swirling and whirling, the word to describe what I was searching for in my sleep, that thing that I had lost, and it was a little of my faith. A piece, a section, a large enough piece as to not go unnoticed, unheeded.

“I am fundamentally an optimist. Whether that comes from nature or nurture, I cannot say. Part of being optimistic is keeping one’s head pointed toward the sun, one’s feet moving forward. There were many dark moments when my faith in humanity was sorely tested, but I would not and could not give myself up to despair. That way lays defeat and death.” 

NELSON MANDELA, LONG WALK TO FREEDOM: AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF NELSON MANDELA

I knew that I would not find peace, until I had gathered back that piece, and not to let a drop more than necessary fall from my sight, as each bit of faith that we hold close, protect from the weak and twisted humans that take so little regard for others, has no soul, or so it sometimes seems.

That faith in humanity, that sense that even though so many are but pawns in some larger political game, of these leaders who seem devoid of any sense of the power they wield over the weakest minds, over the angriest persons, and so little regard for the rage that it takes to gun down 11 people in a place of worship, I shall not yield my faith to them.

All our emotions are pawns to this twisted gameshow host standing at his podium with that knowing twinkle in his eye, swirled up the attention, and the utter faith in him his believers have, and only him, worshiping his making of this mythical greatness, of tellin’ it like it is, and he could not give that feeling up even for one single night. Not one night could he act in anything approaching a Presidential fashion, not for one night.

I can remember back to when my Grandma died, and the day of her funeral, and all the cars lining the streets all around the church, as funerals back then were held in the church, least for us, and the many people the night before at the visitation. I sat here this morning and it hit me how so much more difficult it would be within that circus that follows Trump around, and the anxiety of who within all that chaos that would insue would fall through the cracks and initiated more violence upon an already grieving community.

Oh, I tell you I struggle with faith lately, I honestly do. I rant and rage sometimes at the taint of it now inside, that taste of almost metal, of blood as if you’ve bit your tongue sense of, something unfamiliar, something not normal, of a person who confounds the rational, those who, heck I don’t even know what words can rightly express this sense.

“In this hour, I do not believe that any darkness will endure.” 

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

I look outside my window just now, up into the trees, and I see the sky has now begun to turn a dark ultramarine, a deep, deep blue, no longer black, as the sun begins to rise.

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