Clarity or Insanity

Cafe Locked Out

Despite all that I don’t understand, and there is so much that I don’t understand, the  great gift the movement has given me, is that thanks to this global event, my tribe has risen and distilled itself from the many, and since accepting me into its ranks, I have never felt alone.

Also, once I had chosen the position of defending my concept of freedom, not that I had much choice, I also found what I had been looking for all my life, purpose. An ever deepening resolve  that in return for my full commitment, has banished their fear from my soul, and fills my tanks, day after day with the energy I require to keep pushing forward.

Last night I slept by the side of the road, there was a weeping tree caressing my swag, and an owl asking the universe on repeat, the question I hear so many people ask. The question that ironically, might be the answer. WHO.

And I slept.

We are on the move again now, we have been for over 45 days. Here we are driving through a forest returning to green after a great fire scared all of its trunks black, and as we travel, I know I am not a tourist, but a soldier on a mission for an army without a headquarters  and without a leader, or at least not one that is made of flesh.

My orders come, not like orders but in the form of an instinctual pull, as though up ahead, in my destiny, if this is a destiny, there is a force, like a magnet calling me forth.

I can understand a language now that has no words, no sounds.  Instead, we speak it using a deep  tongue I never needed before now. We sing the songs of this language when we hug each other, or warmly shake hands. And we celebrate its poetry in the tears that flow, when a recruit, fresh to the line, breaks once they realise they are not alone. That they are not mad.

And if I am mad, then I am not alone in my insanity. Instead, in a world that is relentlessly selling cruelty as a necessary morality, I am blessed with a soul that can’t be bought, and a heart that aches as it waits for those who are buying, the ones who believe they are sane.

Michael Gray Griffith