“For, the sense of being which in calm hours rises, we know not how, in the soul, is not diverse from things, from space, from light, from time, from man, but one with them”… RW Emerson
I remember being in long, long, long ass games. Listening to my friends and colleagues, lie. Not only to us but to themselves. Yammer Yammer Yammer. We could smell, feel, see and taste the bullshit. Our eyes glazed over. We yelled at the asshole. Sometimes we played music to soften them up, or we identified, and the guard came down a little. And some times around midnight, the witching hour, the magic might happen. The shell would crack and a beautiful sparkling, colorful shining, glistening little newborn of a person would tentatively emerge.
The room would get quiet
“Let him talk…”
And in the softest voice, the story, the real deal, the heart wrenching vulnerability would pour out like music and touch each soul in the room. That doesn’t happen easy and few have experienced that raw closeness. It is the thing that makes us love each other, trust each other and want to take care of each other from across the country and the great divide of years.
Even now when the politics, religion and socio- economic, and racial differences that are tearing this country apart, even now that we have crept back to our old habits and ways of living. We love each other. Those differences did not exist in our community where we did not lock the doors and broke bread together. There were few beefs and slights we could not Game Away. I would fly across the country today, fifty years later if my red headed, redneck sister needed me, even in current times when we think each other’s politics are batshit crazy and ruining the country.
We are just there for each other as people who were brainwashed to listen deeply and take care of each other.