One of the great failings of people is the lack of empathy. Imagining what others feel is such an unknown.
The casual disregard for others is all around us. Eventually we get so bogged down in overwhelming crush of crap that we to just go with it. Hurt others just because we can.
What if we could feel what others could? Or just an echo of that feeling. What if it did hurt us to hurt someone else? War would be out of the question. An argument would be something to avoid too.
The mirror of that - what if we could feel the pleasure we give to others? How would it feel to share in the joy of helping a neighbor find a lost cat? How would that basic relief feel?
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Irony
Irony
Life is series of interrelated ironies.
What we think now will have a totally different meaning in some future time. Most of what we know now will mean something different in the future.
Our relationships turn around, seemingly every instant, disrupting what we think and what we see. Sometimes years go by and we find some small bit of information which casts every previous action into doubt.
Out past the edges of the familiar there comes the instant realization that the past in which we wrap ourselves is a dark mirror for the other person. Serious devastation caused by a moment's weakness. Our mistake caused the troubles. Hiding the mistake only made it worse as there were dozens of times in their past where one more open secret wouldn't have stood out of place.
Sadness is the only real companion, the most trusted friend. All of the unresolved thoughts, dreams, and plans stay close under the fold. Missed chances are so obvious in the waning years. Caught in a web we made, healing ourselves where we can, when we can. Peeking out through the shades and trying to move beyond the current irony into the next iteration.
Life is series of interrelated ironies.
What we think now will have a totally different meaning in some future time. Most of what we know now will mean something different in the future.
Our relationships turn around, seemingly every instant, disrupting what we think and what we see. Sometimes years go by and we find some small bit of information which casts every previous action into doubt.
Out past the edges of the familiar there comes the instant realization that the past in which we wrap ourselves is a dark mirror for the other person. Serious devastation caused by a moment's weakness. Our mistake caused the troubles. Hiding the mistake only made it worse as there were dozens of times in their past where one more open secret wouldn't have stood out of place.
Sadness is the only real companion, the most trusted friend. All of the unresolved thoughts, dreams, and plans stay close under the fold. Missed chances are so obvious in the waning years. Caught in a web we made, healing ourselves where we can, when we can. Peeking out through the shades and trying to move beyond the current irony into the next iteration.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Words in the Dark
"I'm sorry about what happened to Sandy." She said quietly from the corner.
I started awake, straining against my fresh stitches causing an involuntary grunt of pain.
"Sorry to startle you like that. I think I know a lot about Sandy from when I put those stitches in. You might not know it but some people get extremely talkative near death. Maybe it's the loss of blood or maybe the expectation of moving on. It becomes the central - or only - thing or minds are able to see at that moment. You weren't an exception to that.
"I remember another thread job in the prison where I was fixing up a guy named Joe Foote. He got stabbed trying to break up a fight. Pretty stupid if you ask me - you wait to see who wins and then move in. Most of the time the winner is in such a good mood that they don't mind being put into lock down. Anyway - they don't fight. Depending on who the lose was - you might or might not stitch them up.
"Joe though, had lost a lot of blood and I could feel him slipping away from me. Until he started talking to me about how he had loved me for the longest time and how he hid his feelings because I was married. Such romantic visions. Hard to listen to someone talking that way while you're trying to sew them up and while they are about to die. Somehow we managed. He survived
"He was one good affair. One of many I had, Poor Steve never knew about them, well until the last one that is. Hard to hide something when the dummy sends letters to your house."
I settled back into the bed which I realized late, was her bed. Wouldn't make much sense to have more than one for someone who lived alone.
"Tell me more about Joe. How was it?" I could get away with this as I was one wounded.
"Joe was a straight arrow - the type who doesn't even think of having and affair with a married woman. He learned quick though and was always aware of the game."
"What game was that Anna? What was the game?" I asked.
"That it was not only unreal but something I would forget in short order. He understood me in more ways than anyone else I had ever been with. No overlong breakups or various mis-jointed attempts at getting back together, just an end with him.
I was a little disappointed though. I like it when guys hang on the line so to speak. There is a thrill when they keep trying to make things right - whatever that means. I came to believe that the amount of times they called me after i said it was over would be a good measure of how the relatioship measured up. The more calls the more it meant to them.
"That's one Foote that I was glad to have in my mouth."
I laughed then. I felt sorry for her though. So many meaningless affairs that only mattered to her in the number of attempts to contact her after the affair had run it's course.
That's the thing with affairs - it doesn't matter - they never end well. The partner with the external relationship will often float the possibility of leaving that relationship for the new one. Added insult to the other person - I could imagine Anna turning up her delicate nose at such a thing as leaving her husband. Her voice echoes in my mind with an 'as if.'
Her marriage though - did it only matter as a social statement? The ore I learned from her only magnified the extent to which I didn't know.
I started awake, straining against my fresh stitches causing an involuntary grunt of pain.
"Sorry to startle you like that. I think I know a lot about Sandy from when I put those stitches in. You might not know it but some people get extremely talkative near death. Maybe it's the loss of blood or maybe the expectation of moving on. It becomes the central - or only - thing or minds are able to see at that moment. You weren't an exception to that.
"I remember another thread job in the prison where I was fixing up a guy named Joe Foote. He got stabbed trying to break up a fight. Pretty stupid if you ask me - you wait to see who wins and then move in. Most of the time the winner is in such a good mood that they don't mind being put into lock down. Anyway - they don't fight. Depending on who the lose was - you might or might not stitch them up.
"Joe though, had lost a lot of blood and I could feel him slipping away from me. Until he started talking to me about how he had loved me for the longest time and how he hid his feelings because I was married. Such romantic visions. Hard to listen to someone talking that way while you're trying to sew them up and while they are about to die. Somehow we managed. He survived
"He was one good affair. One of many I had, Poor Steve never knew about them, well until the last one that is. Hard to hide something when the dummy sends letters to your house."
I settled back into the bed which I realized late, was her bed. Wouldn't make much sense to have more than one for someone who lived alone.
"Tell me more about Joe. How was it?" I could get away with this as I was one wounded.
"Joe was a straight arrow - the type who doesn't even think of having and affair with a married woman. He learned quick though and was always aware of the game."
"What game was that Anna? What was the game?" I asked.
"That it was not only unreal but something I would forget in short order. He understood me in more ways than anyone else I had ever been with. No overlong breakups or various mis-jointed attempts at getting back together, just an end with him.
I was a little disappointed though. I like it when guys hang on the line so to speak. There is a thrill when they keep trying to make things right - whatever that means. I came to believe that the amount of times they called me after i said it was over would be a good measure of how the relatioship measured up. The more calls the more it meant to them.
"That's one Foote that I was glad to have in my mouth."
I laughed then. I felt sorry for her though. So many meaningless affairs that only mattered to her in the number of attempts to contact her after the affair had run it's course.
That's the thing with affairs - it doesn't matter - they never end well. The partner with the external relationship will often float the possibility of leaving that relationship for the new one. Added insult to the other person - I could imagine Anna turning up her delicate nose at such a thing as leaving her husband. Her voice echoes in my mind with an 'as if.'
Her marriage though - did it only matter as a social statement? The ore I learned from her only magnified the extent to which I didn't know.
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