I talked with a paralyzed man covered in grime the other day as he smoked a cigarette and collected aluminum cans from his wheelchair. I was surprised by the tenacity in him, the fire burning through his eyes though he could barely speak and barely lift the lighter to his lips to light his cigarette. Collecting cans was his way of fighting, the one way he had to still feel some self-respect and autonomy. Collect enough cans, and he could buy a pack of cigarettes. Each cigarette he was able to buy and smoke became a middle-finger to the reality that had taken him. What was the major difference between his life and mine? When he was 30, he fell off a boat and broke his back. His wife left him because she didn’t want to care for a cripple, and he had no one else in the world, so this became his life.
It’s interesting that we spend so much energy thinking about circumstances, about where we belong, what we deserve, who we’re better than, who we’re less than. These comparisons make little sense. This world is often chaos, goodness rewarded with evil, vanity rewarded with esteem. In this world, cruelty often rises to spectacular heights of power, and vast multitudes tremble with fear like caged animals waiting for slaughter. Some people may experience love, attention, affection, and care, but many others know little but darkness, exploitation, humiliation, and fear. There is no common starting point, and there are no rules of justice governing the journey. So why do we spend so much time making assumptions about what we know about people? Yet, something primal compels us to shun what we view as inferior and supplicate to what we view as superior, even when the inferior might be noble and the superior might be depraved.
Recent Comments