I stood, alone, and the world swayed. I am a fugitive and a vagabond, a sojourner seeking signs. Isak Dinesen in Kenya, her heart utterly broken by loss, stepped out of the house at sunrise, seeking a sign. She saw a rooster lunge and rip a chameleon's tongue from its root in the throat and gobble it down. And then Isak Dinesen had to pick up a stone and smash the chameleon. But I had seen that sign, more times than I had ever sought it; today I saw an inspiring thing, a pretty thing, really, and small.
Isak Dinesen, broken by loss. Anyone who has seen the film Out of Africa has an idea of what Dinesen is mourning. The love of her life has just died, and she is consumed with violent grief. She is hurting, and she wants the world to hurt, as well. At least, that's the way I interpret this little tale. Grief in action.
Yesterday, I did not comment on the shootings in Orlando, Florida. I was not ignoring the tragedy. I simply didn't know what to say. Still don't. Of course, all sides of the political spectrum are weighing in. Donald Trump is blaming terrorists and reiterating the need to ban all Muslims from entering the United States. Hillary Clinton is focusing on the need for stricter control of weapons like the assault rifle used in Orlando. And President Obama just sounds tired of standing in front of the White House Press Corps, talking about yet another senseless gun tragedy.
It is a sad day. Fifty innocent people dead. Fifty more wounded. There is nothing to say that can come close to expressing that amount of grief. It's not a Republican/Democrat thing. Not a heterosexual/homosexual thing. Not a West/East thing. It's a human thing. Loss doesn't really discriminate.
Do I believe there should be stricter gun laws in the United States? Yes, I do. However, tonight is not the time to argue and point fingers. Tonight is a time for prayer and healing and love. Lots of love.
Saint Marty feels like smashing chameleon tonight.