a Ugandan child soldier
The contrast between worlds.
Ugandan and American perceptions are as wide and deep as the ocean between them. The level of need in one is lost in the swift passing of news, sound bites, and amply placed outside of the moment, the momentum of changing technology, luxury, and our comfort levels that need to feed on their lost for our sustenance. Such a world of privilege I live in the United States of America. We cuddle in fear of invisible germs, and jump at the sound of warnings about terrorist we are fond of telling ourselves hate us because of our life style, and its attendant luxuries. We enjoy misunderstanding, and purposely using the word freedom incorrectly. We love the lies, and employ a host of people, and machines to tell us the lies that comfort us, and block out the raw needs, and terror of others in war torn and poverty stricken countries like Uganda.
Shit does stink, and roosters do come home to roost. What goes up must come down, and what is sown is reaped. This are some of the tenets of Natural Law, and if my citizenship as an American is questioned because I understand this and place it into the discussions around 9/11, white supremacy, healing, the economy, spiritual and personal responsibility, and other pertinent national issues then something has sickened within the fabric of this great nation, and we are dying as a people, a concept, and a corporation. The souls of our leaders, and the citizens, the regular people are sick. There is brokenness in need of mending, of healing. How do we open the ears to hear, the eyes to see, the bodies to receive its healing, and the soul its revitalization?
-Gregory E. Woods
Keeper of Stories
Mariska Hargitay
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