“Why do you do these things?” Aldonza vehemently exclaimed. Several days earlier this man had entered their little town doing the most peculiar things.
Puzzled, Don Quixote replied, “What things?”
“These ridiculous … the things you do!”
“I hope to add some measure of grace to the world,” he said softly but with a strength she had never encountered before.
“The world’s a dung heap and we are maggots that crawl on it!”
Don Quixote answered with compassion, “My lady knows better in her heart.”
An apathetic comfortable conformity to the society in which one lives is the most subtle form of unconscious slavery. It’s nothing short of a suppression of the truth and of the abundant life.
When people (westerners) think of “the front lines” of battle or hardship, they often picture places that lack physical comfort and development, where wars, crime and terrorism reign and poverty dominates. Places like Syria, Afghanistan, Venezuela, South Sudan and Northern Uganda come to mind. Maybe one pictures the impoverished people living in the slums of Nairobi in Kenya or Rio de Janeiro in Brazil. Truly this is where the wars are being fought, right? Continue reading “The Front Lines” »
How blessed am I that I get to see my lover every day? To feel and taste and embrace her, to gaze upon her as if it’s the first time I’ve ever seen her, to be captivated by her as if she’s still to this day the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on.
I had spent New Year’s Eve in New York City and had just gotten back to my apartment in Ocean City. I woke up early on the second day of 2014 and spent the morning with the mist shrouded ocean. Forever the water moved; not for one moment since creation had it been still. Standing there as I stood countless times, I thanked my lover for making me feel humble, inspired, tiny and salty all at once. No matter what, I always wanted to be around her or close to her. Continue reading “My Lover (Pt. I)” »
Second grade had been a rough year for me, but third was when I first started to see my (obvious) struggle with math. Not only did it take me forever to grasp simple multiplication, I was completely uninterested in the subject altogether. My third grade teacher Mrs. Larson had sympathy for me because I don’t think she was too fond of math either. She was well traveled and preferred geography, history, writing and social studies. (The loves of my life).
Mrs. Larson brought out the best in me when it came to my deep fascination with the world. For hours I studied maps and knew all of my countries, continents, capitals, oceans and seas. In this realm, I surpassed everyone in the class and had my teacher to thank for building up my interest and feeding my hunger to know more about the planet.
At one point we were each assigned a country to do a project on. I ended up with the West African country of Ghana.