where the writers are
Don't Shoot The Turkeys

When it is said that ‘we should not try to understand the mind of another’- it is like asking us to starve rather than eat the last cookie in the jar; it’s not gonna happen.  We will eat that cookie.  We, being folks who have those ‘literary’ creative spirits.  I will not personally spend too much time analyzing the evil mind that just killed and maimed the beautiful people in Aurora, Colorado, but I have continued ( at a greater degree than normal) to philosophically and critically question the moral compass of humanity.  Something I do every day. How can you not?  And when I find myself anguishing at societies’ hatred with their judgment and selfishness and their lack of personal responsibility, it pulls my sanity to the edge. Not an edge I would go off of, but rather an edge that causes me to shut the door - on God.  Exactly. Right in her face.  Done. Don’t believe you exist. Mad. That is where I was last night.


Then, I am driving down the road to work this morning and I see a rafter of turkeys. Moms, dads, and little baby turkeys.   Something that is not uncommon in my area, but this morning, it was quite special. I call these moments ‘God’s reaction to my tantrum’. And being, God, she does not need to whack me with a frying pan, but rather tickle my ear with a gentle reminder of what is good.


So, I look over at these turkeys and I think; ‘Only God could not only create a world where such funny little creatures can be so precious but also whose simple being can remind us that life’s essence is good.’


And, while I know I am not the only human being capable of these moments of quiet solitude and reflection, I wonder what  am I supposed to do with it?


I remember a TV commercial in the early 1970’s where a young hippie looking girl approached a US Marine who was holding his post at a government building. When the Marine turned his rifle at the young girl, she smiled and put a flower in the end of his muzzle.  I was about ten or so when I saw that ad and it still causes me emotional anguish.  While I would never hurt an innocent person and I certainly would never hurt any animals, ( because they are all innocent) I do eat meat and I would use violence to protect my family or others. And, I have ‘vengeful’ thoughts. I want to get a gun and go hurt the people who have brought evil into this world. Especially those who rape and abuse women and children.

( pause)  So, does that make me a ‘non peaceful soul? 


I imagine these thoughts are racing through the minds of many ‘Coloradoans’. And, this is what makes us human.  But what also makes us human is to stand up for the weak, to defend the innocent and to step outside the crowd or the box or whatever spiritually confined space you have gotten yourself into and be willing to make a positive change.  And this is what I was moved to do when I saw the turkeys this morning.


I have been in a ‘writing’ funk since my little dog Sammi died last year. And after crying all weekend, not only because of the sadness of those who passed, but because of the courage of those who lived, I decided to say something- again. Because there are way too many good people in this world to be continually frustrated by the few who are not.  So, here I go again…..


Enlightenment of one’s soul does not come from sitting in your church and judging those who are not of your church; enlightenment does not come from tea party rallies or bloody posters of fetuses; enlightenment does not come from fear; it does not come from anger and it does not come from the local gun shop.  If you choose to be ignorant then please be ignorant on your own time.   If life has dealt you a rough hand than go spend 40 days in the desert and do some soul searching, or better yet, read a book about something positive- don’t play a video game that has you blowing up zombies. Be of service to someone else. Talk to someone positive.  Get some help. Or, as my mom always told me, in her most loving, kind, gentle and humorous way possible whenever I was having a pitty party-  ‘it’s not about you, Candie. It’s about all of us.’