Sometimes my very own philosophies contradict one another. In fact, often.
I find solace in the fact that God is in control, meaning that I am off the hook of major personal & universal responsibility. Then a week later, I find solace in the fact that I am not a limb-less minion helplessly rolling past injustice or beauty. I realize that I am in collaboration with the one who created the universe and this creator asked me to do my part. To be hands, not just a mind. Then other times (many times) the notion of being God’s hands makes me wedge myself under the living room coffee table with my hands curled tight into my body and smooshed against the floor.
Sometimes I hate that I do this. Other times, I resent the very notion that I should have to get my hands dirty in someone else’s work. Then I forget about it for a while and let 7 seasons of a Netflix series satiate my eyes.
Eventually, the heart rate picks up and I am back within the tension of the human experience. I am kind of a physical being, kind of a spiritual being, kind of at the mercy of the Universe, kind of creating my own universe. Here I sit, jumping around it all. Though outwardly, I’m merely staring at a cute pair of cut off pants on the person ordering coffee. My mind moves to the space under the coffee table. I think I missed the part where I dirty my hands for justice.
More time passes.