I sit in the jury box waiting for Treatment Court to begin…’black hole’ time I once heard someone call these moments of just waiting around for the world to start moving again
My mood, my time, my life these days…seems polluted and misused…. Here I want not to be
But at the demonstration – I’d get bored pronto - I’ve never been much of an activist
All the dedicated people – where do they all come from?
And how do they bear the lack of change their efforts do bring on?
Stuck in a court room….in a job but mostly in a head that is cluttered and confused.
All is well, all is well…even though everything is all a mess…all is really well.
Is on the opening page of a book that’s called Awareness…
and that is called by me my own personal Bible
I get the mess part but struggle with the ‘well’
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Interrupted by applause for a client doing well a slab of plus and progress in his small and troubled world
The ‘loud’ from outside ratchets up a notch…a ‘good’ speech apparently as the cheers from the crowd are now muddled not as much
Big ideas big words – important words for sure… but to a single soul trying to muddle through…words aimed at him…attaboys all around…are as big and important as any might be heard.
Where they are really at:
is not in the pitchness of the black…or the tan or not of the white or Hispanic It’s more in the face, the demeanor, the hold of oneself…
For sure there are some so trained, so devious even That his tells do not do much telling at all
But these treatment court-ees seem not that so versed at such dup-li-ci-ty
A very thin, med-yum black with a Muslim-ish beard hands out his ‘relapse’ essay to all who are there. His weekend at Options is over and done.
He seems compliant, not defiant…is he now on his way? Funny I wonder the same about me…near each’n’ev-er-y day…...
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