Just a theory on Life

Life... just an enormous topic to tackle especially when I don't necessarily feel adequate enough to write accurately on such a mysterious and vast topic. But if I don't, I am completely devaluing my two cents-- and aren't all two cents equal?

Does Age, education, economics, nationality, gender detract from the true perspective on life or does it enhance the different aspects of it like facets in a beautiful jewel. Some times I wonder how skewed my perspective is from the truth. How much my lens is fogged up with my own bias's and presumptions.

Lately I have been exhausting my literary analysis techniques in my english classes and there are now sure signs that it is beginning to seep into the crevasses of how I perceive life. Before I saw no symbolism, metaphor, didactic meanings, or dark humor in my life... I was simply living as a narrator and accepting the mysteries as some sort of force that God plans to use later. Now while this holds true and I do believe that some mysteries we will never understand or are even meant to understand, I have began to look at life through a literary lens.

The Bible is riddled with symbolism, metaphor, hidden themes, teachings and parables about life. If God wrote the bible (whether through divine intervention or inspiration) and God, theoretically, wrote my life as well-- shouldn't my life be riddled with symbolism, metaphor etc etc etc also? I feel that if we look at it completely rationally it makes sense, A=B and A=C then B=C (now, please be merciful if there any blatant philosophical errors or theological heresies)

I only first came to this realization this morning while I was going for my walk with Kachina. I love animals. Let me indulge in a minor tangent, while growing up I had this fascination with animals. Jake, my first dog, had become my best friend, literally, I viewed him as a real friend. Now think about this cliche.... it's straight up absurd. Who says that an animal can be a friend? Do they even have any concept on friendship? Maybe so, but that's a whole different topic to confront. Ultimately, this love for animals has yet to fizzle out.

Anyways, as I was walking Kachina, I was overwhelmed with symbolism by the strangest instance, she did what most dogs did-- pooped. Now, I'm usually not a light weight for gross things, I get a little squirmish but for the most part I can step up and handle the situation. With one exception... picking up a dog's poop. It disgusts me. I don't know what it is... but it grosses me out the point of where survival mode kicks in-- fight or flight.

I know, it's dramatic but let me have my moment. We all have irrational fears, right? Well, we all have irrational vomiting catalyzers as well.

So the dog poops. The scene: it's morning, we are on a residential block in front of an abandoned house, there are no cars, no bystanders-- just me and Kachina and the poop.

My conscious began to feud, the devil on my left said, "You're in luck, you can leave it and no one will ever know".

I listened for the Angel, but there was silence. I was surprised. Really, not a word? Don't you want to argue your side? But I knew why there was silence. The Angel already knew that I knew the right thing to do. She didn't need to convince me because the right choice never needs to be convinced.

Now back to this poop, it is literally stinking with symbolism. I'll let you associate what meaning you want to it, but overall it was my responsibility to clean up. Kachina is my responsibility and I in turn am responsible for her actions. To get even more abstract and even closer to absurdity, we could even say Kachina is a part of me: I take care of her, I direct her, I teach her, I walk, feed, clean etc etc etc hence, although she is a separate being, we are connected on a level where her messes are my messes. This poop is mine.

Last year, or maybe even yesterday, I would have left it. I would have not acknowledged it, I would have buried it, ignored it, ran from it. I would have deferred the fault and responsibility as not my own.. It's simply embarrassing how juvenile I can be.

I love making rational loopholes, but it has become almost detrimental. I was born ambidextrous (I broke my left arm which then stripped majority of its usefulness), but my parents always told me that I'm not only ambidextrous dexterity wise, but mentally as well. Meaning I use my logical and creative side equally (whether this has any merit or not, I am ignorant).

As I am getting older its, at the risk of sounding pompous, becoming a burden. My creative ways are being rationalized logically, making my own perspective completely unreliable. I can rationalize anything. (this being the ultimate downfall of Enlightenment philosophies). And I have to be cautious about this. It is scary to think that if I don't monitor this fact about myself that I have the power to obscure the truth to a degree where I can rationalize my temptations.

Ok back to the point, my rambling is basically supposed to explain that I am very well practiced at making strong excuses. It's immature to lowest degree.

So even before Kachina pooped, I was predetermined to run away, simply because I could rationalize it.

But the silence of the hypothetical Angel stopped me.

Maybe I grew up that instant or maybe I finally came to the realization how rude it is to leave poop for some one else to clean up. Whatever it was, it was strong enough for me to roll up my sleeves, hold my breath and pick up that stinking, warm pile of digested waste. It was no less disgusting than it would have been; I still gagged, frowned and wanted to run away. But I did it-- I picked it up.

It was my mess and I had to clean it up.

There will be more messes in the future and more times where I rather runaway than roll up my sleeves. But that isn't the right path. We as humanity face this choice. It is a universal struggle to own up to your mistakes, pay the consequences, clean up, and move forward changed. It's not easy and its definitely not pretty. But it's right. And even though I feel that sometimes my lens on life is clouded and there are times I can't even see my feet, my (or maybe it is God's) moral compass always seems to point me in the right direction regardless of my inclination towards folly. The ultimate question now is if I will have the strength to follow the direction the compass points and have faith.

Wow, can't believe poop catalyzed such a notion of thought that ran beyond the physical and spurred a moment of self-realization. God moves in mysterious ways.

Who says symbolism is limited to books?