Extraterrestrial
Do you suppose it's true? That humans are not alone in this universe? I don't feel too human myself sometimes. I certainly don't feel humane.
Respecting the Earth isn't as easy as it seems. We live in a world of give and take, where giving a little and taking too much from the world is widely accepted and rarely questioned.
Providing service is seen as heroic. I am Superman.
Compassion is confused with submission, and submission is limited to those who are oppressed. It leaves them with nothing but compassion for each other. Sympathy for their horizontal segregation. Politics with their tea.
We meet in groups to plan great things. Many of these are superficial at best.
We wait in lines.
We are in a perpetual state of being late for something, everything.
Coffee.
Job.
Class.
Meeting.
Coffee.
Coffee.
Food all begins to taste the same.
We tell each other 'I love you' in hopes that saying it will make it true. It rarely is.
I could quote a Corinthians passage here, or provide my own witty quip about what 'true' love is.
Or, I could keep sitting here with my luke-warm cup of coffee and my notebook, after a day of work and meetings, waiting for a class to start, anticipating my dinner in a few hours, which will probably taste like all the others.
Or maybe I will go sit in the rain, admiring my face in the puddles, wondering if my reflection really is human.
Respecting the Earth isn't as easy as it seems. We live in a world of give and take, where giving a little and taking too much from the world is widely accepted and rarely questioned.
Providing service is seen as heroic. I am Superman.
Compassion is confused with submission, and submission is limited to those who are oppressed. It leaves them with nothing but compassion for each other. Sympathy for their horizontal segregation. Politics with their tea.
We meet in groups to plan great things. Many of these are superficial at best.
We wait in lines.
We are in a perpetual state of being late for something, everything.
Coffee.
Job.
Class.
Meeting.
Coffee.
Coffee.
Food all begins to taste the same.
We tell each other 'I love you' in hopes that saying it will make it true. It rarely is.
I could quote a Corinthians passage here, or provide my own witty quip about what 'true' love is.
Or, I could keep sitting here with my luke-warm cup of coffee and my notebook, after a day of work and meetings, waiting for a class to start, anticipating my dinner in a few hours, which will probably taste like all the others.
Or maybe I will go sit in the rain, admiring my face in the puddles, wondering if my reflection really is human.