Americano and spinach egg puff thingy
A prayer? From me? Godless heathen-type?
Yes.
There is an act of the soul, unmistakable. Uncontainable, it is compelled outward, whether or not it has faith that there is a listener. It is somehow a wish, a hope, a need, all at once... so urgent...
And what am I praying for?
Listening.
This deep desire has been in me for a long time, and the need for it has not lessened. This last election was rife with examples of just how bad our deafness and isolation have become. We withdraw behind screens - laptops, televisions - protected, we think, within our echo chambers. We don't even raise the window shades to see those passing by.
We invite no one in from outside to sit at our table.
A week ago, a madman committed another act of madness. So shaken, and so quickly, we found our niches, found our memes to hide behind, lest anyone point to us and say we are culpable in some way for this madness. No one is talking to each other. Almost nothing new has been said. The font just went to ALL CAPS as people started lobbing slogans at each other with no real sense of who they were aiming at.
If the "pro-gun nutjobs" were to invite the "lib-tards" to their table and listen... they would find that most gun control advocates are more "gun regulation" advocates. I'm sure I must have friends who want to ban all guns outright, but I can't for the life of me think of one. And most gun owners seem to support reasonable safety measures, so the polls show. If we could sit down together, break bread, and speak to one another... all these false caricatures could fall away.
What we need for this next age of the world is to see to speak and to listen to our brothers and sisters on this earth. We need to burst our own bubbles. We need a kitchen table movement.
We need to post this before the laptop dies and we go another week without a blog. No edits. Love to you all.
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