A Tale of Two Cities? Nah. A Tale of Many Worlds, Melding Into one

Now it is night. This morning on my walk, I wrote this:

I don't think things actually change so much when it comes to humanity. At least not so far. Maybe it hasn't been long enough yet. 

Yes, there is less violence today, worldwide, than in known human history... And the Internet and smart phones makes it thus that I, a walking zombie, can write this on ghetto phone and be read by you in an almost instantaneous proliferation. 

And who are you? You could be anyone, and therefore you are everyone: a middle class teacher in East Texas. A farmer's son in rural India. An Army Sargent stationed somewhere no one even knows far across the globe from the park where I am currently walking,  and typing, a woman bursting with life but still just one of the watchers of this sea of people. 

Here, in this park, I marvel that maybe some things have changed, for while I walk past homeless people engaging in morning baths, with the use of half empty plastic gallons of water and jagged splinters of mirrors, I also see gaggles of Hispanic ladies between the ages of 21 and 30, pushing stroller after stroller of lily white children in designer outfits. I see pony-tailed, man-bunned, tattooed actors and commercial directors being barked at by tiny girls with six pack abs in boot camp. Elderly Asians with their Tai Chi. A Latino boxer surrendering to his trainer with a near Christ-like humility. The dog walkers, the crows. Little children singing. A Hasidic beauty in a red wig, two toddlers in yarmulkes. An old Indian couple, he in a golf tee shirt waiting for she in traditional garb, walking with a cane. The angry tweaking woman shaking a tree branch at me... and my long shadow, ever by my side as we walk home past the proud edifications of commerce and "progress," outdoor shopping malls disguised as public parks with meaningful family activities. 

Perhaps it has changed... perhaps it is no longer a tale of two cities but a tale of many worlds, and those many worlds are furiously becoming one....

And my inner cynic gazes at the Hispanic nannies and the white babies and I think to myself, none of those children's parents better vote for Trump, because then who will raise their children?  And my inner governor chastises  me for judging, because I'm an artist who will likely only have children if a financial windfall comes my way, and I don't know if I have it in me to dedicate my life to screaming,  thankless brats.... but of course I do, for I am a human, and once, often, and forever almost all of us cry for mother's milk. 

"Don't judge," I think, "you love the Grove."

"Don't judge," I say, under my breath,

Just watch.

I am watching, and as I watch, my heart opens up. Why? Why does all this humanity make me love even more?

I watch, and I see. I see thieves. I see liars. And in those folks, I see little children. And I see hope, and I see peace, and I see heartbreak. And then I see beyond that, catapulting back through the years, years and years and years, back to the place where our matter comes from, from the stars, from the energy of trillions and quadrillions of years, and I see we are just all here at this party over and over again. I'm not saying necessarily as past lives or any of those things, but I know that the matter that makes you was once the matter that made my relatives, and may, in seven years, once all our cells have turned around again, be the matter that becomes me once again.

So, we're at this party. Let's dance.