The Day After

It's the morning after a day where I had a little trouble with my mother and I'm feeling a disconnect to the world around me. In recovering from harsh words, I pull into my center, try and find the truth of what was said, whether means I take it to heart, take partial ownership over the shortcoming or disregard it all together, there is a period of introspection that I enter into in order to discern what is the truth of the comment.

In doing so, and being somewhat prompted by a book review, I've come to realize that I don't know people at all. Maybe that is why I write. I write to make sense of things, to put things into perspective, to immerse myself in the consciousness of "other". It doesn't really matter for what reason I do it, the question here is "do I know the people close to me?" I'm beginning to think that I don't.

My family, who I should know better than most people, is often distant. We talk, sure, we talk about the daily grind of the things we do with our days but we never delve into the meaty substance of the questions that arise out of our routine. Or, it may be, that I'm the only one doing the questioning. When I move through my day, I ask questions about what people's motivations are, what they are trying to accomplish, why they are the way they are. When I see news stories in the paper or on television, I ask myself questions about how these things can happen. What does it mean for our world? Our children? Are we responsible for the general state of the world? The general state of our city? Our neighborhood? Or merely, and I hope not, ourselves? I believe in the common thread that links all things. I believe that if you pull on a string in Istanbul it will have some resonance in Milwaukie, OR. I believe that our actions return our energies to us and that, oftentimes, we dig our own graves.

So, what do I do about my current situation? What am I supposed to do with the feelings I have about what happened yesterday and the lackluster explanations that were given to me when I sparked a confrontation? Do I move on? Do I distance myself even further from someone who I love very much? I'm processing all that's happened and asking the questions that will probably lead me nowhere but, in the end, I think it's important to continue asking.

I think it's important to live an inner life that is speculative and introspective. Someday, maybe I'll write the story.