Thursday, February 16, 2017


S P I R I T U A L   S M A C K  |  B E T T E R   T H A N   Y O U R S E L F

On the dawn of the New Year, I strolled through the streets of New Orleans. Pavements wet with one-more-shots of alcohol consumed by those now with eyes shut in hazy dreams of the new. A new year to summon a different self, but to precede what or whom? 

At the end of a year and even at the two month mark still, many of us feel awash. Events in and outside of our realm—from our period to politics—tumble us. The end of the year seems like we have been coughed up by the sea with the beginning of the year spent cleaning sand out of our hair and tasting the muck of a year past. 

From here, the view of those sailing past seamlessly is an alluring sight. Some find the gust for their resolutions more easily than others, and that is what I pondered when I walked past the Faulkner House on New Year's Day. 

May we remember in reverence that everyone has less than gentle rides on their own current.
On being, Faulkner claimed that we shouldn't "bother just to be better than [our] contemporaries or predecessors" but to be better than ourselves. 

Rather than gazing at and comparing ourselves with others who are apparently having a fine sail day, may we shift the gaze towards what is ebbing within ourselves. May we remember in reverence that they, too, have less than gentle rides on their own current. May we find comfort in that despite our varying distant locations, we are all in the same sea. Perhaps afloat today; sunken and tasting the waters of a sour tomorrow; yet still onward. 

May we remember that as we lie on the shores of ourselves that these are our waters. The sails of comparison drifting by are billowing with our own huff-and-puff of inner dialogues. May we release others away from our path. Sand shaken off, may we dip our toes in looking at all the directions our selves can spread out when the horizon is empty and water is warm . . .