Notes on Privilege

I awoke this morning in a freshly made bed, dog snuggling at my side in the home of my choosing. I start my day with meditation then give thanks to God for my good health. When I leave my house, I go where I like, enjoy as I may, and leave if I don’t. I’ve never in my life glanced at the skies in terror. Simple pleasures consumed as I’ve come to expect - this is the cornerstone of my American Dream.

Lately though strange things have been happening. Unfriendly comments, vicious dogs, trailing cars. A hefty breach in my sense of security. That’s the worst thing - the worrying. Like a thief in the night, stealing my peace before I’ve even left home. I become erratic in the face of fear - straight catatonic or running headlong into the dark. Confusion, paranoia, exhaustion remain. I want to crush these feelings and sometimes I do, drink myself back into the recesses. I hate myself after it’s all done.

I want to go back to bed, I want someone to tell me how to make it stop. I’m praying, keep praying.

I realize I spent the whole day preoccupied with my powerlessness, this Veterans Day.

My God, who I may freely worship, brings me back to sanity. Fear isolates. Fear divides. Fear is the opposite of gratitude, whittling my focus down to a single point of lack.

Perhaps I should have stayed in bed today, until I could have remembered the depth of my blessings.

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