Emerson said that the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.
I see the manifestations of desperation all around me. Some forms are more noticeable, while others are shrouded in the dark places of the psyche. There’s the the panhandlers that beseech me with woeful stories on cardboard signs.
There’s the obese amputee maimed by an unfortunate life who sits at the lights on Higgins and Main. He pulls his wheelchair along the road with his one good leg, while thrusting out a cupped hand willing me to spare some change. His demeanor oozes misery and he glares painfully at every driver that ignores his outstretched hand.
The other forms of suffering are more concealed, depression lurking behind phony smiles, and ‘yes I’m fine’ and other social lies. I fight to keep my heart and eyes open without succumbing to despair. I resist, I wail, and I rail against the growing pains and the aching belief that ‘this should not be’.
I know that to say ‘this should not be’ is to argue with reality and to add to my own suffering. I challenge myself is to remain wholly present and open to what is, without allowing my mind to spin its own version of a doomed existence.
This Should Be. Why? Because it is. Look. Don’t turn away. This is Our Life.
Awareness It Self 