The Turning With A Charge

The last post I wrote left me with a residual feeling of something left undone.

I am an observer of life; myself, others, other…

That said- I pay attention to the magnetics which maneuver my mind in particular directions. When those forces affect my soul as well as my mind I take note.

This blog, in it’s very public way, helps me know what is up for me in my journey in partnership with MS.

Often, the landscape isn’t that cool or attractive or PC.

You help keep me honest. Taking a thought/feeling/idea and putting it into form by choosing words to represent it is very different than ruminating privately.

I am well aware that writing about the HIERARCHY OF DISABILITY left some people with a sourness in their pores.

My interest was the fact I turned away on that day from a man.

It was I who lost. I who missed an opportunity. I who felt superior in my relatively unscathed physique.

In thinking about this act of turning away I wondered where else I turn?

My personal avoidances are things like people who drive Hummer cars, scream at their kids or each other, alcoholics, homeless people who look scary, the folks who stand on the nearby street protesting an abortion clinic and the people standing in the median with a sign asking for money with a cute dog lying close by.

Now, as I think about this act of turning I see many shades of grey. I can and do turn judiciously from experiences, people, energetic atmospheres which do not benefit me or my wellbeing.

This kind of turning is distinct from that of which I speak as the action comes without a CHARGE (read: judgement) attached to it.

I have a judgement about the ‘Hummer-man.’ He shouldn’t be taking up that much space, polluting, etc.
INSTA-DISTANCE created. (my own carbon footprint is bigger than I’d like.)

I turned from the disabled man because I felt my own vulnerability too deeply. More INSTA-DISTANCE

Same with the homeless man. Wasn’t too long ago I was in an all-too-precarious home search myself.

And the beggar. I have been there. My clothes were cleaner and I have a better haircut. Yeah- I got a washer in my house and a few dollars in my account but really…. am I so very different than this guy? More distancing.

The abortion clinic protesters are not bad. Different politically than me but not wrong. The distancing feels good, though… reinforces my delusional superiority.

These are only examples I immediately pulled out of my hat as I write this.

God only knows what other turnings happen on subtler levels that keep me separate and supporting this culturally-generated alienation we live and breathe and call it the American Dream.

Freedom, to me, seems like the capacity to see clearly and choose from that place.

Sometimes it is a very messy road to get there, though.

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