The Karat In Front Of The Stick
Although I’m not thrilled about doing so, I have to admit that I sometimes suck at this whole guru/enlightenment/walking-on-water thing.
My mind was waterlogged last night with murky thoughts. And when I opened my eyes this morning, the darkness between my ears didn’t have much regard for the sunlight forcing its way through the window blinds.
I, being who I am, can slice through sadness like a samurai with a Hanzo sword, but I chose, for whatever reason, to just sit there in my own stink.
And with that said, I, being who I am, can’t help but feel what everyone is feeling.
Although I was in no mood for chit chat, I knew I had to say something to the guy pumping my gas this afternoon so I complimented him on his sunglasses to get the ball rolling.
He replied, “Thanks. They really help me to see in the sun. Just had to wear them in Jamaica when I was seeing my son.”
“He lives down there?”
“Yes,” he said.
And then added, word for word, “He just passed away. Thirty-six. From sickle cell.”
Holy fuck, it’s a mad mad world at times.
(I really would like to end this piece right here. Just have the credits roll on it and that’s that. But I guess I should try for some catharsis, right? A happy ending of sorts. Oh c’mon, get your goddamn mind of the gutter. So, here it goes: a friend recently said, “Some days are diamonds and some days are coal.” Those are the wisest words I’ve heard in awhile. And, as we remember from our dreaded earth science classes in high school, we can only possess diamonds after coal lives through unfathomable pressures).