"That is not part of me" I say to the young warrior who is holding a lump of black rot in his hands. He pushes the lump at me.
"No" I repeat. "That is not part of me."
I am knee deep in a lake, surrounded by warriors who are gathering pieces of me adrift in the water. In a rather dramatic shamanic dismemberment, I have been shattered by a waterfall drop and these young divers are bringing back the parts of me that have drifted away so long ago.
Yet, this rotted lump of black must clearly be a mistake. THAT is not a part of me.
I resist again and in a flash, the goddess Kali has called the whole thing off. She is part mother, nurturing but critical; part warrior, irritated and aggressive. Right now, warrior Kali is exasperated and she asks pointedly "Are you only made up of sugar and spice and everything nice?"
Her appearance is frightening yet so very familiar to me by now. Her lips are red and glossy; not with lipstick, but blood. Her own personal struggle with bloodlust is the very reason she resounds with me.
"No, I'm not just nice. You and I both know that, but that black oozy stuff must be a mistake." I try to think to my sins; clearly, none of them are THAT bad.
As if she hears my thoughts, she says "You don't know how your actions ripple. A small unkind word here. A bit I anger there. Loss of patience. And the worst crime is your indifference..."
The words settle over me and I cannot argue. I know I'm a practiced veteran of indifference. I'm the three monkeys who avoid evil by covering their eyes, ears and mouth...except I forget to cover my mouth...
World events overwhelm me with their horrors so I choose not to acknowledge them. Hunger everywhere except in my kitchen. Do not see it. Do not hear it. Innocent by ignorance, right?
The blackness floats toward me.
1 comment:
Pretty powerful stuff there. We're mostly all guilty of your last paragraph. Imagine how the world would be if in fact we weren't guily of that....
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