How To Live When You Already Know The Ending
Some Suggestions for Black Eyed Souls Dreading the Inauguration
CNN: Michelle Obama. Inauguration Day 2016
Here’s audio recording of this Black Eyed Story. Enjoy!
Well, you brace yourself. It’s as simple as that. Once you understand that at the end there’s a bullet coming for you and there’s no dodging it, there’s no bulletproof-nothing that’s gonna save you, there’s no white flag you can wave, you brace yourself. You spread your feet a hope's distance apart, push the weight of your soles into the marrow of the earth beneath you, and you brace yourself for the blow. You know it’s coming.
But when will it hit?
Let’s say there’s only four more chapters to the end. You prefer a movie? Then let’s say there’s only four more scenes. Let’s say each chapter, each frame is the equivalent of a year. Let’s say there’s four more years and then POP! POP! That’s it. The end. Finito! It’s coming. Brace yourself.
Or, maybe not.
Maybe you should relax. You can just wait and see what happens. Everybody knows bullets are as unpredictable as rage. Weapons misfire. Shooters miss the target by a mile. Sometimes they hit the wrong target. Happens all the time. And who knows? Maybe it’s a rubber bullet. Or, maybe, the shooters lose their bravado (cause it doesn’t take courage to fire a bullet – courage isn’t arrogant).
Or, perhaps…
You might want to make peace with the bullet. Make your rounds to friends and loved ones. Say your goodbyes. Visit your favorite haunts. Watch your favorite movies one last time. Finally jump out that plane or swim with those sharks. Finally book your ticket to wherever the fuck you keep saying you just gotta see before you die. Write that book. Take your chances and eat pufferfish. What have you got to lose? The bullet is coming. Maybe its best to get your affairs in order. Host your own funeral and be the guest of honor.
Or…
You can try to outrun the bullet. Buy a one-way ticket to anywhere a million and fifty-eleven miles from here. Find a cave. Hunker down and hope it never finds you (but you and I know it will).
Or…
You could decide to flip the script. Just turn the page. Choose your own ending…
The bullet isn’t a bullet but an emperor who realizes he’s wearing no clothes.
The bullet isn’t a bullet but an arrogant hare outmaneuvered by a slow and steady tortoise.
The bullet isn’t a bullet but a lazy grasshopper left to starve in the cold.
Or…
You can make an appeal to the gods. Perhaps work up some good karma: donate, support, volunteer, subscribe. But remember what the ol’ folks told you: no good deed goes unpunished. And you know that all your good deeds are the reason the bullet was fired in the first place. You pissed off a tyrant with a gun. Worse, you upset the gun – and oh, she will have her pound of flesh. She will take her revenge. Maybe you can pray for mercy like Jesus did in the garden. Maybe there’s a beautiful resurrection waiting for you when all is said and done. Maybe you can meditate your way to nirvana.
Or…
None of the above.
My New Daily Habit for My Black Wellness
I scroll the Jennifer Hudson Show’s Instagram and pretend I’m part of the Happy Place dancing down the Spirit Tunnel:
I’m admiring Michelle Obama even more for taking this stance. She’s not pretending that things are fine.
We are not okay. Everything is not fine.