Remember Who You Are Our lives are like vehicles speeding down a super-tech highway. We know where we are going and we know how to get there. This is apparent by the great abundance of things we’ve accumulated in our homes and work places. Supposedly, time saving things. In the kitchen, we have a common can opener, so new and ingenious in its operation, it makes us wonder, “who-da thought?” In our office there is a lap top with a new light that pops out the words of a blog with 3D incredibility. Our garage is a graveyard of relatively new things we just don’t use anymore. What want is there? There is none. Our world is complete.

Nevertheless there persists a certain foreboding within us. Why do we have unrelenting anxiety? Why are we lonely? Why is there alienation in our lives? Among us? Why do self doubt, and insecurity hang on, in spite of all we have accomplished and possess? Why do we have persistent unfulfilled desires?

Despite our living in a thriving and prosperous world, we find all these seeming unconquerable qualities lurking in the dark spaces of our being. Overwhelmed by these unwanted visitors within us, silently we suppress a scream, “Save me!” To our rescue, from childhood memory, there is, “Mamma!” With apron on, she is in the kitchen frying bacon. The aroma of coffee percolates through the house. Dad outback doing. Through the front window there is grandma sitting on the front porch soothing herself in the rocker.. We sit on the floor and animate our doll. We lay on our belly and rev up our electric train. A quiet world. Serene. A security we welcome with open arms. If only we could linger in this memory forever.

But, no, we are jolted back into our super-tech reality. Images outside speed by. Flashes of past and present moments come and go. We blink trying to hold on to real time; but even so, are we nodding? Which reality is it? Experience vacillates between virtual reality and la-la land. We don’t really know where we are.

Now a bus, our vehicle stops. Passengers get on, passengers get off. Their newspapers, purses, items, etc. are the issues of the day. And a major one is the election of Donald Trump as our president.

We say, “wow,” and sit straight up. “how did this ha…, wha…, did I miss som…? Our world has turned up side down. Something deep inside us in a guttural voice shouts, “Wake Up!!”

We scurry to do something. But what? What immediately comes to mind is, “violence won’t work.” So we try as best we can. The reality settles upon us that this is a big deal. This could take a while. But who wants to wait? A first impulse is the poor me syndrome, but we’ve been there, done that.

But really, how can our tiny selves oppose the powers that be? Some of us hit the streets…,others go and muse on a solution somehow, some way. A suppositional question arises, “what if we had all the help we needed?” The question encourages another, “what if we had help right now?”, what if some unseen something could just change the situation and we wouldn’t have to bother?” We know “what if” questions will bring no answers, even as we speak. There is not magician, There is no magic. Our musing goes on, with reflections in real world. The only time we had any serious questions about the real world is when we were in college. Long time ago. Like, questions on the nature of reality. The tree in the forest…, did it fall?…, can you write on water?… who am I?, questions like that. But we thought the questions were only academic. Our focus was on getting a passing grade. We didn’t realize, at the time, they were questions to be answered in our personal lives. If we were suppose to answer those questions and we didn’t, then all we have been doing is pretending we have a better, a happier life. But not really. And pretending may be why we have these lingering inner feelings we want to be rid of.

Something within us won’t let us accept the thought that we are left to pine in the desolation of our souls. We live in a real and ordered world. The stars, the celestial bodies are proof of that. Nothing is flying apart; so there must be an answer somewhere. But where? Where do we find it? Who do we go see? Do we take a course? In what? How is it we are left alone in this existential condition? Well it seems, at least, to ask the question may be a beginning.