Thoughts so far on Scott Turow's book One L: The Turbulent True Story of a First Year at Harvard Law School

Reading the book One L by Scott Turow, I found an interesting passage that expresses human nature's constant conflict between the desire to achieve our full potential free of any social expectations and the necessity to avoid being "too awesome" because of our interconnectedness with others, and how our success/awesomeness may negatively impact them. And yes, even law school students, despite the intense competition among their ranks, may also relinquish their competiteness for the greater good in some classroom situations, according to this book. It's both sad and heartening to know that some of us have this engrained disposition to set in motion our own failure (even though we know we can do better) in order to appease others who may not be enjoying the same privileges we are due to the ways in which various inequities have affected all of us and our relationships with one another. So, we fall because our connection to others becomes more important to sustain than our own advancement, which may possibly be, both, an act of solidarity and self-destruction.

Words to Remember You

Yellow lily. PHOTO BY SI.

I appreciate you.

I appreciate that you taught me the importance of being genuine.

I appreciate that you modeled honesty when things were not right to you.

I appreciate that you made an effort to rebuild bridges and give people a second chance.

I appreciate that you acted on your concern for others.

I appreciate that you presented your passion for creating networks of care and motivated people to act.

I appreciate that you were forgiving to others and to yourself.

I appreciate that you stood up against oppression and stuck to your principles.

I appreciate that you recognized your weaknesses but equally acknowledged your resilience.

I appreciate that you valued deep, strong, and lasting friendships.

I appreciate that you remained hopeful and had faith in your and other people’s capacity to offer care.

I appreciate that you put your trust in others and asked for support when you were hurting.

Because, my friend, you taught me that no person is an island.

Because, my friend, people may not have had the chance to see the WHOLE of you.

And so, I say these words about you and for you, because I don’t want to forget your humxnity.

I don’t want to forget your vision for a kinder, more loving, more just and forgiving world.

And if I am one among a few people who now hold your vision close, I will do my best to model its life-affirming and empowering message in my thoughts, in my actions, and in my spirit.

And one more thing I wish to say...

You made it after all, my friend, so fare thee well. 

Fare thee well. 

In memory of my brilliant friend.

Dear Losers of the World

Dear Losers of the World,

I hear you. I see you. I connect with you and all the mess you've created on this earth. All the mess you expect others to clear away for you. Dear Losers. I feel the pain of your anguish - that anguish, that dread that knows, without even looking in the mirror, that it was all done by YOU. All of it. All of it. Not a single other. Not a single wee tiny little mouse. All of it was done by YOU. 

And because of that, you're kinda feeling loser-ly tonight. You're kinda feeling like all confused, and hurt, because you can't make sense of the guilt, that gnawing, attacking, insulting, totally not-pc GUILT! When you feel like that, you feel helpless. You feel sorry for yourself and then you can feel the power within you slipping away - actually the power just kind of starts vanishing in the thick of it, in the thick of the unconscionable but in the thick of discovering the unconscionable which then becomes conscious to you. It becomes so real. Too real. And you can't escape the discomfort of it all. 

So, you try to scratch it out of you, to slit the skin so the poison burns your fragile exterior as it pours out with singular uncompromising speed, you do everything you can, that's within your power, which is actually no longer power, but sickening self-pity instead that will further devastate and deviate from what you were initially brought somewhere to do.

Dear Losers, I know your life, my life, are fragile webs and they can't always hold the impact of all the wrath we fling this way and that way like the steel blades of a hurricane slicing through hope, faith, peace, love, whatever. I know that in this experience of deep loser-li-ness, as you think thoughts of offing your putrid selves for the benefit of all Humxnkind and for the sake of the Animals who will no longer be murdered just to feed you, for the sake of every being. It is better to lose your life than the world having to lose the lives of so many others.

So, in that experience, in that moment when it's too late, when you've lost your life (could be both literally and figuretively), I want you to feel pride for having done what you did. For having the guts to go without a bang. For letting the world find out gradually that you are no longer with us. 

Because that's just what losers must do. They must off themselves and hope to the Almighty-master-fear-monger-himself-herself-their-selves that where their souls are heading/headed is a place where such worries are never entertained. And so, my dear Losers, you will find great peace in death. Great riches none like here on Earth. Great moments of joy and wonder, never fear or danger.

And I wonder, Dear Losers, what that would be like.

Death, Grief, Remembering, Learning

AK/Boojie staring out from one of his favourite hiding places. PHOTO SI

A friend of mine recently lost her cat, who died quite suddenly. Cats have passed from sudden death syndrome, and vets say it may be connected to heart health issues or ringworms. My friend posted a few heartfelt narratives about her precious fur baby and wrote about that special interspecies bond that all cat lovers know so well. It was beautiful prose to remember a beautiful friendship. I know that my friend is devastated from her loss and it made me think about losing AK/Boojie in January of this year.

What I've learned is that though the frequency of visits from Grief start decreasing as time passes, the emotional intensity is always the same with always the same questions running through my head - why? how? what if? But no matter what, all those feelings and all those questions cannot somehow erase the suffering some of the cats in our lives went through - suffering that they often endured in silence until they could no longer stand the pain.

I will never forget the sight of AK as he was leaving this life behind. The rigor mortis set in within two hours. I stayed close to him for a while and Lalu did too. Then I covered him up in a blanket and placed him in the large litter box with a cover that I washed completely before putting him inside. He couldn't fit anywhere else because his body had stiffened. I covered the box with a prayer mat and then waited for the morning to come so I could take his body to the vet to schedule his cremation.

AK's former caregiver arrived at my home to accompany me to the vet with AK. He wanted to see him. When I opened the top cover of the box and pulled back the blanket covering AK, he knelt down and stroked AK's head. He loved AK like family, and I knew that seeing his best little fur buddy that way broke his spirit.

I think these memories are important. They play a significant role in making us humans realize our capacity to nurture deep emotional and spiritual connections to other species; there is an intelligence and intimacy there that only people who have opened their hearts and homes to such relationships truly understand and appreciate. My hope is that through loving all the animals that have come and gone in my life, i will learn to extend that kind of familial sensitivity, affection, and concern to other animals, especially the ones who suffer from the day they are born to the day they are killed, for food, for scientific and medical tests, and for entertainment.

I will never know why at 4 cat years of age, AK had to go, and why I was not able to provide him a peaceful death in time. But life and death collided that night. In such circumstances, the learning is like a slap in the face. And so, to continue honoring his memory and to never forget the pain of his death, the two cats with me now receive all the best of my care. It is still a rocky road though and this home I have for them is not perfect. I can only work hard and can only hope that my fur babies - when each of their time comes - they will be in a safe loving comfortable space, they will be pain-free and can make their exit from here and head for their souls' liberation without any fear.

Sending loving thoughts and prayers to my friend's cat, Frida, as she begins a new existence somewhere in the universe, maybe as consciousness - consciousness that adds more love, more playfulness, and more joy in our world because that's just what cats bring to our lives in general and that's just what makes them such amazing healers, such dedicated furiends, and such engaging teachers. Rest in peace, sweet Frida.

The Other Me

Filtered. SI

I saw the other me tonight. The other me from a past life. I need the filter though to protect that other me so you can't see them as clearly. But I can.

I understand now why those red dresses mean something to me. Why the stories enrage me. Why the voice wants to be set free. It's the other me.

Somebody who was a nobody, then became...a body.

And this is why we need to stop telling people they're not like us, or they don't know us, or they can't do what we can do. There is an other in all of us - maybe one, maybe ten.

When you find your other like I found mine - captured in a selfie, from a distance, you too might see it. The confusion will clear. It might scare you, but you will understand the whys.

The past beyond this past. Beyond that past. Beyond. Beyond. Beyond.

How far back does this other me want me to go? How many lifetimes were skipped? How many other mes did I miss? Or, did it all happen yesterday?

If I look deeper, I might find the puzzle pieces to put the story of this other me together. I might see their name. On that list. In red. On a sign held by a mother, or a grandmother, or a sister, or a daughter.

But the other me never really died. They were waiting to be found.

So, here they are. In this selfie. Flashy colours. Slight grin. Proud chin. Back. Not for truth. Not for that other damn thing. Not for a sad red dress. But for reclamation. Resurrection.

Restitution.

This other me. Now you will hear their voice. Free. At last.