Write the Right

It is easy to ignore the wisdom of your favorite easy chair or your first car or even your fuzzy slippers. Each common, daily element gives us a moment to reflect, to take pause and wonder if we are as irreplaceable as our sanctimonious ego lets us believe.

Of course I am speaking (or rather writing) only of myself.

If I were ambitious enough, I could grab the mixing bowl and bake a cake for this evening. But first, if I took half a second longer, the bowl would remind me of my mother lecturing about the 3 fingers pointing back when I point to accuse another.

As I sit in my easy chair, I remember how I foolishly loaded it in the back of my little pick up truck. I remember passing the sign just south of Hearne on Highway 79 that warned of high winds. When I stopped at the first intersection in town I looked in my rear view mirror to realize the wicker chair I had just purchased that day was missing. Fortunately it laid on the side of the road with only some road rash waiting for me to pass through stupid.

I thought I was so clever talking the clerk into selling it for half price. Now, it’s not even worth that much, except for its functionality. Some kind of clever I am.

Why is it we bow to the curse of passing judgement before recalling a moment of disgrace that made us part of the human stain on some previous occasion? Why is it so easy to be superior and reign over the mignons? What gives us the right to claim righteousness? Our individual thoughts are not the only way. A thought is our own. They come and go without control.

And, if we choose to write down what we believe to be right we should not run the risk of censorship or condemnation.

Those who came before me, such as my mother and the memory of her “mixing bowl” lecture paved the way to courage and strength so I might speak without fear as long as I think at least twice, don’t point fingers and don’t pass judgement.

So, I shall sit in my bruised easy chair and write the right.