What’s this? I don’t even

What’s this? I don’t even

Right now, that is my favorite thing to say. I’m constantly shocked by well, everything.

Which is strange considering my background. I’ve seen frightening things, dared myself to the edge of the roof, nearly thought I could fly a few times

I am shocked by cruelty, when we were taught better in kindergarten. We were taught to pet the friend who fell down, not point and laugh.

When a friend lost their kitty, or parent—we hugged them—we didn’t cheer for them to die for lack of medicine. Do you know any 5 or 9 year old that would say “it serves your daddy right to die, he didn’t have a job.”

It sounds harsh, but I’ve heard that very thing this week-not from a child, but from an adult. I’ve seen people cheer dying men on the news.

I’m surprised by the need to make others feel less than, feel stupid. To be rude? Is it really necessary that you use words that the person you are talking to can’t understand? That you are curt and cutting? That yours is always the only and right way?

Why are we like this?

I’m also so surprised how much people lie.

We are taught by our parents, by our teachers—to go to a trusted adult, to tell someone when something is wrong, something bad has happened. Yet every day—in many different contexts—I see adults hiding things they should ‘tell a responsible adult” about. I’ve seen friends lie to friends—for fear of their own position. I’ve seen information kept secret, that shouldn’t be.

We know better, you know we do. If you have a moral code—what does it tell you about lying?

If you have a religion—does it say that you can lie? Under what circumstances?

We all have a conscience. It isn’t easy to listen to it . I had to this week and it was terrifying. I had hives, a migraine and fear so bad I had to pull over and throw up. I knew what was right and what I had to do and I also know what’s going to happen because I did.

I’m surprised by behavior we should have put away with pom poms or debate trophies rearing its head again. Don’t we leave middle school? Isn’t there an escape from high school? Or in work do we return to the same clique or outcast status we occupied oh those many years ago?

But then—I did see someone tell the truth this week and take a risk. I did see a group of folk rally to a hurt friend.

We are better than our worst impulses. We are our brother’s keeper.


"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."  Plato