Jungle Creature


Dear Eugene,

This weekend I will begin my first volunteer shift as a "visitor" in a residential care center, talking and listening to people who would probably rather not be there, who would definitely not be in particular want or mood of my talking and listening if they are free to go somewhere else, like a dimsum restaurant, where I an unnamed stranger shall remain conveniently unknown.

I've pulled up the volunteer position description just now and read it again.  I have a strange feeling I am going to embarrass myself.

I know I've signed up for it to not get comfy with myself, but now it's getting hot under the collar even before it begins.  I am sure it'll get better after this weekend.  There's nothing but prayer on my lips.

Secretly though I still wish I had signed up for something else (and there are many other choices), maybe hard labor, moving mountain with a shovel I can, learning how to grind an ax and hunt for discernible and achievable results, something glorious and purposeful.  I killed a fruit fly in my office just now, did it in one try, two hands, one clap.  It's not so hard to shoot and score, you see, if you want it bad enough, if the situation is annoying enough to call for killing, affair swiftly settled.

Going into a dark jungle to make peace with unpeaceable creatures, that's what I see paying a "visit," having a conversation is about.  You realize there's no object in my last sentence.  The unpeaceable creature might well be our Self but we're too distracted to see a need to make peace with even that.

Today is a day of flowery and chocolaty distractions; how many Self would declare itself unpeaceable until it's properly flowered and chocolated?  It takes more than an ax to clear the fields.

Yours, Alex

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