Who’s got room for hate?
Back when I was a “citizen,” I had some pretty strong opinions about things. As time passed, I started questioning my own opinions. Where did they come from and why?
I began to see that I was processing information I was being given and having an emotional response to it. The catch was that the information I was being given was erroneous. I was being played.
Man, that was a relief. I realized that I really didn’t have to care if English was the national language or if there was a wall at the Mexican or Canadian borders or that George W. Bush got to be president because his daddy had been director of the CIA and had “boogers” on everyone in the world.
I saw that it was all like a Saturday morning cartoon.
I read an article about some real ugly racial stuff that happened not long ago, and it made me wonder: How can a person function with a brain so small that it tells him or her to hate others for the color of their skin or the language they speak, who they sleep with or what prophet of god they follow?
It’s a wonder to me that they can get their zippers down before they pee. Hard to imagine, ain’t it?
I don’t have much room for hate; although, I do have a strong dislike for weak coffee, stirrups that are too short or wearing socks a second day on different feet.
For the “haters,” best of luck shrinking life down small enough for your brains to savvy.
In the words of Bob Dylan, “Every distance is not near ...”
Tom James was riding horses before he could walk. He currently hangs his hat in Ignacio. Reach him at email@example.com.