Periods

They call us "bleeding hearts." And tonight I was reminded that the image of extreme pain is so accurate. Sometimes, I can't help but "feel the sadness of the world," as Mallie & I call it. (Honestly, maybe I could turn a switch and stop Feeling. Could I? Maybe. But then I would morph into a different person, and that is not in my agenda. My name is Tasha.)

We discussed patriotism v. cosmopolitanism in class tonight, and believe it or not - that is a topic that had me teary & sniffling half the time. Researching global citizenship education has had the same effect. The magnitude of The World, the enormous network of humanity, the constant failure of people groups to respect their counterparts in other parts - these things overwhelm me. I taste them, and like bitter berries they leak dark stains in my mouth and I force myself to swallow their juice. The acid gives me heartburn. A "bleeding heart." And that is how it feels to study.

I couldn't love my program more. A program couldn't demand more of my sensibilities. Couldn't leave me feeling more wrecked at the end of a unit. But why am I such a masochistic student. Why do I value this process. Is it the safety I find in uncovering all the scary evil things and naming them. Turning the lights on. Feeling the horror once so completely - does it free me from ever being asked to feel it again. Does my sacrifice of grief alleviate an ounce of the cosmic harm an atrocity has caused. Or compound it. I can't even bring myself to use question marks on these questions. I'm too tired to see those challenging little squiggles, reaching their fingers out to me, "Answer. Figure it out. Well?" Don't ask me to answer. Don't even ask me to question, Punctuation. You have no right. Leave me alone. To my periods.