His cane swept across the sidewalk. Feet sprung up dodging the tip of the stick as it beat against the soles of their shoes. He was a grumpy man, his body shook to the core as he mumbled incoherently through the crowd. He was restless and the construction zone had little mercy for his blindness. Continue reading Everyone Wants to Tell You How to Live
My arms were sore. I squeezed past the bodies of half asleep commuters blocking the subway door. It was my first day teaching at a charter school in Chicago’s West Garfield neighborhood.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around as my friends walked past us off the path of the dirt road. It was hot and the sun seemed to scream past the shade of the waterless dam we were exploring at the Parque Ecologico La Huasteca.
“She wants to know if she can touch your hair,” the women said “and take a picture with you?”
I looked down at the no more than seven-year-old girl she was shoving towards me.
I recently had a conversation with my family about life. It weaved between religious and non-religious. It was one of the best conversations I ever had with them, not because the religious half won over the other, or vise versa. It was great because it made me realize the importance of questioning. It made me realize that it’s okay to not always have the answers. In fact I sometimes wake up and think, “God, I have no answers. Just questions.”
Philister Sidigu 