I’m not sure it’s healthy anymore to hang your integrity on a coat hook of fine ethics
and take a seat at the table of morality for a meal that if it could talk would probably
say hey idiot if you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn around.
I thought about this this morning, when after reviewing the events of the past two years
while sipping on coffee I realized too many people have grown too comfortable with
generating panic and violence as a backwards way of empowering themselves
and that to truly combat this I must start to gently remind myself and them that
I don’t want to talk about what’s fair or good or ethical for a while, and would rather
have a conversation about simple, pleasureful, everyday things, like my realizing last night
that I liked Sun butter better than peanut butter on my PB & J, if I want to start to
enjoy the mundane again. You’re thinking good luck with that, this guy is living in La La
Land, if he thinks he won’t be brought down in a flaming fuselage of national news,
or that he can ignore the day’s immoralities by simply thinking differently, he probably
doesn’t have kids, and I agree, I am trying to generate an imaginary world where most
of today’s harms: COVID, racism, international inhumanity, a dishonest political climate
and plain old fashioned CEO greed and its counterpart working class social and child neglect
don’t exist at best, and at worst will become far less powerful with less attention,
and admittedly, I’m not getting very far with any of it knowing sleep has a way of
bringing back a moving paper bag of insomnia hiding an anxiety that’s even more terrible,
to the marbled, front steps of peacefulness I’ve erected to ascend over what I’ve tried to ignore.
But feeling alive and worth anything happens each time I try to take care of myself,
whether I fail at it or not, reestablishing a new path of trust and self-compassion that I can
follow when what’s on the news seems too unreal to be real, and only La La Land can
keep me safely and restfully in a life.