The Meanings of Being Human

I walked toward the glass doorway on the great brick building as she was coming out. My delayed speed in approaching the door and her pressing to get through the door made for an awkward crossing in the doorway with a suggested impetus of human interaction. It was all a split-second instant. After doing the infamous shake and back aversion of running into one another, we both moved toward fronting one another as we crossed so that we were physically turned into the other's space. Sheepishly, I thought to avoid further awkwardness by turning my eyes into hers to form a quick smile and verbal apology for the hilarious human foible as I positioned myself to make a better passing. But when I drew my eyes toward hers, she never even flinched to look into mine....She brushed past me as I were a ghost, hardly showing evidence to my existence.

What if I told you we were perfect strangers making a random passing, would you blame her then for not looking in my eyes?

What if I told you that we were actually acquaintances, that she was majoring in Life Science and loved reading, and I was majoring in Film and just got an internship, would you blame her then for not looking in my eyes?

Or what if I told you that the door to the building at our crossing was an apartment complex, that we had seen each other multiple times, and that we had found a common thread one day for several minutes as we sat and complained about the landlord ripping us off with rent. What if she had looked back and smiled at me when I commented about one of her deep answers in our philosophy class, that I had shyly averted my gaze at her in the same moment, and that she took it to mean that I was repulsed by her and none the bit attracted. Would you blame her then for not looking into my eyes.

Or what if I told you that we had dated for two years, that I could tell you the day she became completely comfortable with me with an outrageous belch? I was stunned at the girth of power from such a tiny frame, she was blue with laughter at my sullen reaction. What if she could tell you she knew I was about to kiss her for our first time because my hands were trembling as I moved to embrace her. We had fallen in love. Standing on the overlooking cliff with the slapping sound of the waterfall hitting the rocks far below, I put my arms around her waist and kissed her. She whispered in my ear that she loved me. I pulled a ring from my pocket and she started to cry. I slipped it on her finger and she hugged me tightly, tears falling down in synchronizing crests with the slapping water on the rocks below. What if I told you that two days later I called off the engagement out of fear? Would you blame her then for not looking into my eyes.

to me talking about how many kids we wanted to have, and our dream home, and how I was going . That one day I had proposed to her but called it off because I was scared. Would you blame her then for not looking into my eyes?

Or what if we had been married for fifteen years and had four kids. We had grown together through sacrifice and serving one another and had a love that was untarnished. Yet, we still felt we knew so little about one another and that there was always room for improvement. Would you blame her then for not looking into my eyes?

How about if the brick building was a breadstore in the projects, that I was best friends with her older brother and we had been playing with a handgun two weeks before when it suddenly went off and killed him. What if I told you that he was really close to her and always promised to protect her from the hell that surrounded her every second. Would you blame her then for not looking me in the eyes?

Or what if we were in Mississippi, I was born white and she black. I had come from a long line of white supremasists and felt it my obligation to demean every black female I came into contact with. What if I had made no facial expression for contempt because of the unexpected passing but that years of human conditioning in discrimination had given each of us non-verbal cues to show our disregard for one another through out own symbolic interaction. Would you blame her then for not looking me in the eyes?

Or what if she was molested by her father when she was five years old. She might have been attempting everything she could to muster eye contact and a greeting to me but could not. Her mind was frozen in psychological pain that baracaded all trust she ever had for any male. Would you blame her then for not looking into my eyes?

What if she was the happiest person alive. She worked at the local supermarket and greeted everyone she could because she sincerely loved them for the value they had as a human being. However, this day, she had had too much. In her car, she had cut off a motorcyclist earlier who afterward knocked on her window and flashed her the 'birdie'. Then, she had failed her economics test and her boyfriend told her that he wanted to date other people. Would you blame her then for not looking into my eyes?

Or what if she was thinking about the Lord in her mind with a prayer in her heart. She had been thanking him for the beautiful sunny day it had been and for the sparrow chirping in the tree above me that I had never noticed when I passed her. Would you blame her then for not looking into my eyes?

What if her mother had called her to tell her that she was planning to leave her father and that she was in a rush to drive over and stop her mother for rash thinking. Would you blame her then for not looking into my eyes?

Or what if we wre two Christian kids who were taught all of our lives to love one another and do service unto others. We understood our true purpose in this life and had great expectations of the next life. That we had both attended separate institutes, seminaries, religion classes, Sunday schools, church meetings, young men/woman activities, and many social activities, that we relatively understood one another pretty well because we had been born and raised from similar background structured in righteous living. Would you blame her then for not looking into my eyes?

What if we were humans? Would you blame her then for not looking into my eyes?

Or above all, what if she was a daughter of God, and I was a Son of God? Would you blame her then for not looking into my eyes?

Give a little, because we will NEVER have a clue about each other. But we at least have the most important things in common!

What We Carry

At time of the precious, ripe fruit
A white taste divine
Found the boy from the wiseman
Two strings attached in time

For the abundant message had befallen
Amongst deaf ears of late
Where once it greatly astonished
And all the same bred hate

The first string from passed men
Of those who spoke it clear
The other from heavenly wind
A pearl for those who fear

And yet strings become detachment
As lost upon deaf ears
If a generation in ignorance
Those who lis't not the seers

Such permission to carry this message
Made to me by the higher hand
And Magnificence carried me forth
To hold my place and stand

Why my brothers would not lis't
A treasure with all its bliss?
More valuable to them than world
Into me... snickers, and slams, and hiss.

If the wisemen had not hearkened
Where would wisdom be?
If faithful men are void,
Then wisdom must surely flee.

Sand Bridges

How can a soul break forth
when earth has buried it,
that seeks naturally what is naturally involved.

The mighty bridge holds the frame of the designer,
And towers over so man may pass,
but when howling wind surge over the midst
Man tears down the bridge and builds it afresh.

Why bridges built from those that are sound?
Why material involved when material is giv'n?
In abundance or not enough indeed
Proves the Master's allotment of our need.

Where is the hypocrite who builds bridges,
taking his material from the Master's pail,
For when the rains come, his bridge collapses
And his volition with him fall to hell.

Wash the sand from your eyes, the master bore
And surely I will give you more,
For laws you don't understand heal your sore,
And flows away the sand evermore.

The Legacy of Jack Handey

Dumb Questions
*How come men are never known as 'gold diggers'?
*If I was a chipmunk with a candybar head, would other chipmunks accept me as one of their own or gnaw at my head?
*They say it is genetically dominant to have six fingers on each hand and six toes on each foot. If this is true, who executed all the six finger tards, and if they survived, what would we do with all the five-finger gloves in the world?
*What is the deal with the nursery rhyme "black sheep, black sheep"? I have never seen a black shep in my life! If this is true, what do they make my red shirts out of?
*They say that tag-a-longs can be so annoying. But I think they are useful. I stuff all my packages with them.
*Why can't we look on the positive side of natural disasters. Like if there was a bunch of tree logs rolling down from the mountains to crush us, that would make things a ton easier for the paper mill.
*I think people are always looking for a problem to think about. Like if they didn't have something to compare with other people, they would be annoyed because everyone was trying to be exactly like them.
*I can't stand abuse! Everytime I see a man yelling at his wife violently, I want to beat the crap out of him.
*This is how I write when I have insomnia.................
*Did you ever notice how everything in life is a blessing and a curse? Like for instances: eating icecream tastes good but makes you fat, big noses are not socially attractive but great for shooting snot rockets, having a crappy car doesn't score with the ladies but is the shizzle at monster rallies, and Lebron James may make millions on the basketball court because of his size but must feel claustrophobic in just about every building he enters.
*If everyone was shifted back a lunch in the McDonald's drive-thru line so that the person behind paid for the person in front of them, would the last person in line get a free lunch? (Don't think too hard about this one, I am way beyond tired!)