The Monkey, Part I

The Monkey, Part I

You know what I realized today?

I am not directly at fault for my friends in Tanzania being impoverished.

Around day four of my re-entry as I was driving around town, a monkey snuck into my car and somehow has managed to cling on my back, where he has remained for the past two weeks. The name of the monkey is Guilt. He is sin, he is not redeemed humanity with its forgiveness and freedom. But just as monkeys appear to be, Guilt is an alluring resemblance of what you might think was free, good and righteous humanity.

For a while, I didn't notice him. He was with me almost everywhere I went, and loved to remind me of my past experiences. In fact, I thought his words to be wise counsel. I had never once noticed that his speech were mere imitations, altercations of true human speech. Soon Guilt made himself quite comfortable upon my shoulders and even his fleas started to bond. As they jumped and scurried over my scalp and crawl in my ears, I became distracted from the tasks at-hand, slapping and scratching - their annoyance reveals their foreign identity.

The memories themselves continued to appear, and they would inspire compassionate action. I sought honest advice about my gifts and started considering how I could best implement them. However, Guilt's words seem to defy and provide rational contradiction to my inspiration. Saying things like, "How does counseling people here help your friends over there? What kind of widespread and lasting effect would that have? Counseling? You know not everyone has the time to work through emotions and hidden pains. Why don't you do something that serves everyone." And so I would follow these shrewd and erudite words, alter my course, and let inspiration and ambition guide. But faithfully along for the ride, Guilt didn't mind offering his two-sense, "I wouldn't spend money on that, it would go much farther in Johnson's hands, don't forget him... Whoa whoa, don't just give away so readily, how do you know your money is going to be used efficiently? Don't move, not yet. Remember you are responsible for what you have, including your experiences and relationships; neglect isn't right."

Eventually the only thing Guilt would let me do, without chiming in, was sit down and swat fleas. In this position I was most unhappy. Where do most people go when they are unhappy? Well, I for one prayed to the one who, I at one point thought, created happiness.
"How are the struggles of the children I haven't barred my fault? I wish to do something, but I know not what anymore. One action seems to be neglect towards one thing or another. How to handle who I am? And to do so in light of who and where they are!? Whoa is me! whoa is me!"
Being one man, having seen much of the world in its audacious tragedy and splendor, being miraculously alive, and being given absorbent gifts, I find myself having much more weight than I previously had.

To be continued...