
This may be my last blog post, as the website will be changing format. It's September 11th. An appropriate day to write about despair and the growing sense of apocalypse.
We have repeated the slogan
"We're all in this together" like a mantra, since March when we started to crawl inside our holes. observing the world from behind glass, and, when outdoors, under masks.
Now we are ensconced in fires, all over our beloved West Coast. We can't breathe. The pandemic, the environmental disasters, interlaced with the BLM movement, and we human beings feel we are suffocating. Not even to mention that we distrust science, information, and each other. We're in a fine state.
So, when I get texts and messages from people who don't live where we do-- in the glorious West (and have they always been jealous of our beauty and weather.. ha! not now!) and they say things like.. "Praying for you..." I respond. Thank you."
Frankly, and let me rant a minute? I am goddamn sick of "PRAYERS."
They feel very nicely wrapped, like gift cards bought in the grocery store queue. How nice of you to pray for us bastards in this yellow air, There but for the grace of God go you. What will you get? A tornado? a hurricane? Will I write you, with " PRAYERS!"
I'm not gonna. Sorry.
How about this? Can I give some money? Donate? Or maybe even post you a $20?
Can I call you, and let you vent and rant, and cry? Can I just listen?
Is it possible for me to socially distance and be with you? Maybe not, so go to phone?
The easiest thing I can do is to say, "I am sorry." Or "Praying for you."
It kind of white washes over the task at hand. Gives me an Attaboy. There. You did it. You "prayed." Now what else do you have to do today?
Not that I don't pray. I am on my knees every day. I talk to God.
But my prayers are often angry. I say, "God what the hell are you doing? Please show me what I need to do because I am lost."
Quiet polite perfunctory prayers . Very nice.
Too nice.
Roll up your sleeves and do something. You don't like what is happening? Reach out. Don't pray for me, a Californian in fire country.
Just call me. Reach out.
At the end of the day, that feels more like God talking.
And who doesn't need a verbal hug these days?
Commentaires