My Sinisterhand

Often times I find myself in a situation that leaves me with a mark of remembrance. Whether it is at a point of struggle or an instance of pain, I recount the experience over and over again as I examine the mark. I inspect closely the disfigured and misshapen form that once was and I remember. Sometimes they are too painful to look upon at first, with floods of emotion and memories that I cannot control. Other times they stand as standards of victories and accomplishments that I recall warmly. Regardless, they are a part of me. I count my scars and understand that it is through pain that we are brought here and it will be through pain we leave. Yet, I believe it will not be an eternal pain. The departing pain is the price that must be paid. It will be collected. There is no other recompense. Yet, it is through these scars that I find my struggle and journey most rewarding when the sun sets and I fall into that cousin of death. I awake the next day with just a little less tenderness, but always the memory and learning still.

I don’t profess to have all the answers and for the most part I am glad I don’t. Yet, what is it that angers and annoys me so much about my worldview being trashed and tread upon like dirt? I believe it is disrespecting and insulting to both the belief and even more for the person who holds it. I find friends and people in general are more approachable to an open dialogue about philosophies, worldviews, and topics on life when I respect them and their beliefs as if they were my own. Out of love for them as my fellow man, it doesn’t make sense to try and pick apart or destroy what they hold dear and use to live their lives daily. Whether the subject is culture, ethics, religion, or societal issues, each one of us holds some sort of worldview of them. Only through open and honest dialogue in a public domain can we work through these ideas, testing each one rationally and logically for coherence and correspondence to the world around us.

From the canyons of the mind,
We wander on and stumble blindly
Through the often-tangled maze
Of starless nights and sunless days,
While asking for some kind of clue
Or road to lead us to the truth,
But who will answer?

Side by side two people stand,
Together vowing, hand-in-hand
That love’s imbedded in their hearts,
But soon an empty feeling starts
To overwhelm their hollow lives,
And when they seek the hows and whys,
Who will answer?

On a strange and distant hill,
A young man’s lying very still.
His arms will never hold his child,
Because a bullet running wild
Has struck him down. And now we cry,
“Dear God, Oh, why, oh, why?”
But who will answer?

High upon a lonely ledge,
a figure teeters near the edge,
And jeering crowds collect below
To egg him on with, “Go, man, go!”
But who will ask what led him
To his private day of doom,
And who will answer?

If the soul is darkened
By a fear it cannot name,
If the mind is baffled
When the rules don’t fit the game,
Who will answer? Who will answer? Who will answer?

-Ed Ames

The simplicity that comes with being a child is unnerving to most adults. The lack of control and the care-free sense would drive most of us insane. Their actions are simple and without regret, almost as if we, the learned and self aware, have forgotten how to act without reservation or hesitation. It amazes me to see the truth in a child’s ways. I do believe in choosing wisely and counting the cost of my actions. However, it seems to me that we have become enthralled with the decision making process and have left the actual choice out in the rain. We hold our heads high because we can process complex decisions and come to a rational and relative decision without using prejudice or emotion. Yet, we have lost the flavor of taking risks and being bold. I find that the journey is more enjoyable if I struggle all along the way. It prevents me from forgetting the journey and allows me to relish in my victories and learn from my losses.

Audaces Fortuna Juvat

-Jason