As of now, I am sitting across from you with my coffee beside me. I can hear the sound of rainfall against the skylight above my head. I am in my loft (of course) and looking out my window at the slick wet streets.

The sky is gray and the trees are exceptionally green for some reason. My road is always quiet. I suppose this is why I moved here to begin with. I suppose I’ve been practicing social distancing since before it was cool. This is why I moved here.

They call it hope.
They say this will appear like a ship coming in on a sunny day. They say there is a means to an end. It is said there is a reason for everything and that one day, everything will clear up somehow. This will all make sense and hopefully, or should I say suddenly, everything before the moments of displeasure, every twitch, every symptom, and all the discomforts and regrettable yesterdays will eventually lose impact. And at last, we can all breathe freely.

There are things I have learned throughout my life that I know are true. Some of my lessons came from an early age. Some of my lessons came from the way I was raised. Some came from the friends I’ve had and some of my most meaningful lessons have come to me throughout the course of adulthood.

Ever fall in slow motion?
What I mean is you’re in the middle of falling down, and yet, meanwhile, you know you’re falling but the fall is almost in slow-motion — and there you are, falling down and there is absolutely nothing you can do except brace yourself when the voice in your head says, “Oh man, this is really gonna hurt!”
Ever have this?

I am reminded of a quote from Shakespeare. He said, “Civil blood makes civil hands unclean.” It seems all of our hands are a little dirty sometimes. It seems like everyone has an opinion. Everyone has an agenda.
Meanwhile, the world is still turning. Life is still going on and you, me, us, and everyone else in the world is still trying to find their way in this crazy place. Such is life down here on Project Earth.

It seems the world has gone mad. The riots across the country have spread throughout the rest of the globe, which I get.
The violence of one led to the violence of others, and here I am in NYC, walking down Lexington as if the city is a ghost town of boarded up windows after a big shootout between good and evil.

Each time I think things couldn’t be crazier, apparently, I blink and something crazier happens. Yet, I find myself not surprised. It is enough to cause me to shake my head. I am growing tired of the association of blame. I am tired of the direction of fault. I’m tired of the news about deaths and murders and I am tired of the political platforms, which use tragic events like tools to gain an edge.

And then there was silence.
No words. No noise, nothing to say.
Just silence.