CXI

I feel humbled by love.

That the world would turn, and fires would burn, and harsh words spoken, and children cast out of their homes, and all the while I sit here hearing words of love washing over me.

It’s an insanity. It’s an injustice. It’s an unfair advantage I live my life upon, sometimes aware, more often ignorant. I worry the small stuff, and it’s hard not to when nothing that monstrous ever comes your way. Divorce, bankruptcy, unemployment, listlessness – but never murder, never natural disaster, never innocence exploited or body ravaged or freedom denied or stomach indefinitely empty. I live the good life, of that I am sure.

And all I have, it seems in these moments at least, is my response. To the TED talk I saw on the crisis of modern day slavery – my response. To the mis-portrayal in the media of a close friends integrity – my response. To the implicit prejudice in the words of one stranger to another – my response.

Or perhaps, my silence. If words are what I’ve been given then it’s words I am obliged to use, yet so often I don’t find them swiftly enough, or bravely enough, or honest enough. Sometimes I don’t find them at all. And there it is, in the spaces between who I am and who I could or should or would have been, that the insanity, and the injustice, and the unfair advantage heap themselves on top of me.

I may not be at fault, but I am certainly responsible. Responsible for my response. And even if that’s all I have, if I don’t give it with my all, it is worthless for sure.

That these words were written less than 24 hours before the tragedy unfolded in Paris, is a sharp intake of breath among many, these past few days.