Sameness on the Stroll

By Carson Speight in OddSirvations 1 Comment

A short stroll on the beach could leave you with the conclusion that we humans are very much the same.

Watch men and women collect shells. These are rocks that little animals lived in. Most are broken, dull, and unnoticed. Some are pretty, shiny, whole, or unique. Regardless, we look for them. We perambulate forward staring at the sand to uncover the gem. Many do this.

Then observe what we humans don’t do. We don’t grab the garbage shells and juggle them, or rub them on our heads. We don’t take the pretty shells and stuff them into our belly buttons. We don’t stoop down to snort the sea foam. We find the best shells, wash them off, and put them in our homes.

Or watch men and women fishing. They cast out their line, they wait, they wait some more, and then they reel their line in whether they’ve hooked a fish or not.

Notice that they don’t wrap themselves in monofilament, nor thrust extremely long sticks with nets into the air to catch gulls. They don’t pack their tackle boxes with sandwiches, nor do they swim out into the ocean to see the fish for themselves. They just cast their lines and try to catch fish.

Or witness the construction of a sand castle. The humans take shovels and pails and sea water and craft the sand into an area of more structured sand. Rarely does it resemble a castle, yet it doesn’t matter because we like the idea of it.

See that we don’t take the sand and spread mustard onto it, nor stuff it in our pockets to sell to children, nor count the grains one by one in our fingernails. We simply dig, pile, and smooth away for hours to construct something that will only last for hours.

We creatures, though in some ways quite distinct, go to a place and do almost exactly the same things. An alien observing these activities may deem them trivial, and they may very well be right. Unless what appears mundane and useless are flecks of what’s truly real and common to humanity.

That a great many of us would find beauty in a tiny shell, or happiness in reeled-in fish, or purpose in an ephemeral build-up of minerals. See our brother there, our sister there. Acknowledge that wonderful sameness on the stroll.

Pent Up

By Carson Speight in PerSpeightives 0 Comment

And they came up and took hold of his feet and worshipped him.

Observe these woman who have just visited their Lord’s tomb. They came forlorn and bewildered. No doubt they traversed the paths and hills agonizing that they’d soon see his torn body, as motionless and dead as it was at sunset two nights before. Alas, they arrive to see no body. Nobody that is, but a celestial one, who tells them the very dead man is not dead.

Goosebumps. All their preconceived notions about what “dead” was are shattered. They run to tell about it, but are halted by the non-dead man himself.

Think of when you’ve wanted to do something so badly for so long but couldn’t. Was it to celebrate a victory, after countless 2nds, 5ths, and lasts? Or to reunite with someone dear in a country faraway? Or to one day get that date with the boy or girl you’ve crushed on for years when every day you doubted its possibility?

Imagine these women who suspected their best friend was also their savior, was also the king of the universe, but couldn’t know it for sure, and couldn’t outwardly esteem him as such, for in his life he was a mortal. Then in this moment they see him and his fixed, non-dead body and recognize that everything they wanted to be true about him was, and if that was true, there was no other appropriate response than to fall down and worship him. All they had ever pent up because of customs and doubts they now poured out.

What if we, too, were withholding the emotion and activity that we were made to pour out? What if we released the river in us and let joy flow? Or shall we fortify the dam and let rise the longing?