It seems we spend all our lives trying to figure out what it is we should be doing with our lives. Recently, after years of worrying, and sometimes considering (but mostly worrying), I gave up in that whole nonsense. Telling myself I should just enjoy where things are, and take each day-to-day. And, wouldn't you know it? Not 24 hours later I've two people, maybe three, asking me what i am going to do with my life?! If there's one theme running deep in our lives, it's irony in what we do to what we think we're going to do, what we want in what we end up wanting, and so on.

The truth is, after discnering the clothe or the aisle for some time now, the answer to what we should do is often in our self recognition of where find ourselves. It's more than often the opposite of that which we wish. If we are alone, it's the touch of another for which we long. But when we have it, we know it's squander and distruth that comes.

So, today when you're in your most intimate moment of the day...washing dishes, walking here or there, or maybe praying; ask yourself: what is it that I'm trying to wish myself out of but is my reality and stronghold of comfort? Piece that to what you love, and you may have what you were meant to be.

And you know what St. Catherin of Siena said (whose feast is Monday!):

"Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire..." 



And then, we're just sitting at a stop light and a little dog wanders joyfully, tail-wagging, too close to the yellow-light-running-black Corolla. The driver never even noticing what was to happen.

I do like dogs, but I reserve attachment to them as any animal. Truth teaches us to be kind to all living things, sufficing our needs only when we must and never denying justice even to the birds of the air, or fish of the sea. I have had many animals through my short life; salamanders when I was 10, Holly the crazy sheltie, frogs, toads, fish, a squirrel I trapped in a box, and about 347 hamsters I'll never forget. I love animals; they're enjoyable and I miss Bella the crazy, floppy-eared, red doberman my parents now call their own.

But the other day I realized I hadn't felt that pit of sadness in a long time reached only at loss, subjectively witnessed and unexpected. One of my YL kiddos and I were doubling back, sitting at Western/Melrose; a very busy, E. Hollywood intersection where it's almost impossible to turn left, anytime of the day, or night. And then comes this little dog, and in a flash I thought in my heart: 'oh, no'. And then it happened. The car running the light much the same as I do, and as everyone does, didn't see the little dog and neither did the dog see that car.

Hours later; after eating, hanging out and flamingo-ing as part of YL tradition on a Thursday night, I drove back to that intersection, still subtly stunned at what had happend three hours earlier. When it had happened a quaint dark-haired girl ran out into the intersection picked up the dog, and carried it over to a green bus-waiting bench at the corner. My light was green, so I turned left at that moment. But this time, parking the car, I walked in suspense and sadness at what I would still find lying on the bench, and sure enough as I did there was the little dog. Dead. And still lying where that poor girl probably laid and wept for the loss she had witnessed. So I stood puzzled at what would be the right thing to do - knowing well, as apparently no one else did, that leaving this little lifeless creature on a bench through the night was an injustice. So, bringing from the car a black garbage bag - providentially stuffed in the car - along with a towel, I carefully wrapped up the dog. Onlookers walked by, and one gentleman said: 'thanks'.

Puzzled at what to do next, I leaned against the car on Western peering down at the black bag containing the lifeless dog for what seemed hours. My phone buzzed and seemed uncontrollable and annoying, as the angst I felt was tragic and cutting. Eventually, I prayed a bit asking God to deliver some semblance of an idea as to what He would like me to do now for this creature belonging to no one, but Him. Googling, I finally deduced that I didn't think it possible to bury the dog anywhere, I wasn't going to throw him in a dumpster, which would have been worse than simply leaving him on the bench. After loading him up, pressing the junk from the rear of the car to the front, I took off to Caehuenga Animal Hospital. I reached in my backpack for a piece of paper, and discovered first a blank THANK YOU card. I wrote a small note, much without thinking, to describe what had happened, and how I came to see what I saw; noting I thought they (at the hospital) would know better about what to do than I. It was now 11:15 p.m., and I had friends texting me to go to a bar with them not 5 blocks away, I realized later. Instead, I unloaded the sad creature, now wrapped in a Target towel, and a black garbage bag; placing him feet from the door, and lying the card and his collar - I had risked to recover in the traffic of the same intersection - on the bag. Praying for Grace upon the life of this dog, the people his life had affected, the girl who pulled him from the street and for peace, I blessed the little thing and then drove home.

I need to do a better job of writing down some of what enters my little head, but it's hard when most fleets so fast I can't catch it even with a long-armed butterfly net.

Recently, I spent some time in New York City. Heard of it? At the Catholic Worker house, on E 1st Street, where I made many friends, and lived a minimal life-style for about 10 days...albeit including night caps at Stillwater, a local watering-hole frequented by Oklahoma State University graduates.

The experience was subjectively overwhelming, as I spent time with homeless (which i love), ate three meals a day (rare, but wonderful for me), and spent time at Union Square dressed as an inmate while silently protesting the holding of those at Guantanamo.

To which this thought inspired me to write that I'm at a loss for the reason behind Gitmo, and the continuing denial of justice for even those who may be enemy combatants. I don't think this government can deny rights of even the most evil of those, with the worst intentions and then guarantee that any other human's rights are not at risk, as well.

However, I began writing because a close friend of mine is a CWer and was just arrested today, charged with obstruction of a government building. Which means standing where the local, or federal government doesn't want to you stand while conveying a subtel message they don't want you to read. The arrest was expected, and that's where I am stuck. I'm confused at whether I would take part in this sort of 'action' but I am not confused upon my feeling of whether I agree with being arrested, just to be arrested. Much like the Gospel message is unflawed in its Truth, I believe the message of non-violence and the peaceful acknowledgement as such is without flaw, as well. But the hearts of men are flawed, and if those hearts are even close to holding my concern, while shuffling to propagate any message then they shouldn't be on the sleeves, let alone body's of those protesting.

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