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February 14 - March 3, 2021
I have learned this for certain: if discontent is your disease, travel is medicine. It resensitizes. It opens you up to see outside the patterns you follow. Because new places require new learning. It forces your childlike self back into action.
I had, in normal fashion, trailed off from talking to God to simply thinking. Talking to myself. I always scolded myself for doing this. For doing it wrong. For not actually talking to God. “Amen.”
“You’re going to die from that,” I said. “I know. I’m so excited. Feels like a sign from the universe. From God. I think Johnny Jones was an angel. And he has your same initials. Wow.”
This happens a lot with people who espouse idealism. We want to feel better about our mediocrity, so we look for the holes.
Fuck expectations.
Most of us will move through life without experiencing the abnormalities of violence, but that doesn’t mean those abnormalities don’t exist.
Whenever I meet someone, even in the most passing way, my brain subconsciously analyzes their speech, their diction, their humor, their demeanor, looking for signals that fit into the preselected categories of “cool” and “like me.” For the most part, my brain automatically discards the vast majority of people as forgettable. But sometimes my recognition software triggers a message. “We found one!” The brain then shoots waves of endorphins and energy and words to nudge me toward investigation. This was one of those moments.
I wonder how many millions of relationships are alive because of this, avoiding conversations.
I wondered for a moment if I had gotten on my bicycle to escape my family. Then I thought, “No, I love these idiots. This mess is what made me. I just need to control my doses. It’s easy to overdose and get sick.”
About November 16, 1532, the Inca king first heard the name of Jesus. On that same day, the conquistadors put his kingdom to the sword. Jesus saves. But you gotta accept Him real quick or He kills.
Absence really does its clichéd trick. It turns nagging into charming idiosyncrasy. It turns frustration into character.
If our shittiest actions can lead to beauty, what does it mean to do right and wrong?
