Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Corybantic Enervation*

God sidetracked by damn internet. And on Lent, too.
All those lost souls searching, crying out for help. For His strength.
40 days is forever. Hell, day one is an eternity all its own.
Ohhhh, look at that recipe for Southern Strawberry Shortcake on Pinterest. Gotta try it.
Shit. Today’s Ash Wednesday.
Day One: No sugar. No grains.
What the hell was I thinking?
No Facebook for some, but God’s updating His cover photo
while some student, “idiot” as Chris would say, texts while skateboarding on campus,
crashing into another student, a tangle of falling limbs and bodies. Bruised. Bloody.
Maybe the guardian angels are all on MySpace. Took it over when humanity abandoned it.
The teens transferred to Instagram. All image, less words, less connection, less thinking.
Sounds like my student essays minus the images, the imagination;
I wish I had a dollar for every time I’ve written “lack of depth, details, drive”
in the past few years. “I wanna be a billionaire, so freaking bad.”
Loving my new smart phone and all the cool apps.
Gross! Why the hell do people post pictures of broken bones, open wounds, swollen feet?
Maybe posting is prayer in the 21st century. Government, God watching over us.
Never alone. Yet always lonely.
Ping. Jessica already has roast simmering in the crock pot for tonight’s meal.
Wish I’d have thought of that. Hmmm…what to cook for dinner.
Wow! Beautiful picture of the beach—blue skies, blue-green waves, roaring against sand—
definitely not like those crazy superstorm waves that obliterated buildings, land, people.
Emerson, I think we've forgotten how to
"Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air." Or perhaps it’s too dangerous now.
Franklin cautioned us against trading our liberty for security,
but he never watched an airplane fly into the twin towers—
collapsing skyscrapers, crumbling faith of a nation—
or imagined bodies dropping down 100 stories on American soil
or dreamed of mass school shootings.
Do we deserve to sacrifice both freedom and safety, Mr. Franklin?
Maybe that’s why we rush to the doctor, begging for more, pleading for pills—
pills for our sleep and for our kids, pills for our anxiety, pills for perfection or peace—
rather than fall on our knees for answers, for hope, rather than sacrifice this for that.
Another crazy gunman. My daughter’s school locked down. Third bomb threat on news this week.
I wonder if God would accept my friend request. Are you there, God? It’s me, Margaret.
The world is at my fingertips; everything only a quick touch away, and yet. And yet. And yet.
Nostalgic for a past that I don’t know, for a time I have not met—a time where food was food and chemicals were poison and books were books and options were not numerous.
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I will meet you there.” Rumi
Cyberspace is so happening. Never shuts down, never stops, always running, always, always.
Oops. Class starts in ten minutes. Gotta run.
Written on March 5, 2014
*Corybantic: frenzied; agitated; unrestrained.
*Enervation: to deprive of force or strength; destroy the vigor of; weaken. Synonyms: enfeeble, debilitate, sap, exhaust.

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