A Short Exerpt from The Curse

Note: This is a short story I have been working on. The second installment will probably be posted at some point if I receive any interest in it. If not, then I haven't wasted any time, as the second installment has not been written. "Pragmatism" has a much nicer ring to it than "laziness."


They were talking about a waterless well in India on the radio this morning. No water in it, they said, but piled high with baby parts. The commentator described the pieces: skulls and ribs and femurs and spines, all stacked high in the well. It seems that a lot of people in India do not want girl babies. Being born a female is a curse. Hide them deep in the earth before anyone finds out it's a girl baby. I wonder who stumbled on the well. Was it a bright-eyed boy catching grasshoppers who happened across the uncovered grave? Did he wonder at first if it was a pile of animal bones? And then, kicking up the sand, running to his mother, crying out to come look at what was in the well, and what is it mother? She ambles over, laughing, wondering what her curious boy stumbled upon. The intake of breath, the gasp as her hands fly over her mouth when it settles over her, the macabre vision of those tiny wrist bones and arm bones and chest bones and toe bones all stacked down in the dusty, abandoned well.
Why is there such evil in the world? Who has taught us that boy babies are better then girl babies? A mother and a father must live out the rest of their lives never having loved and cared for their daughter. Every pink bonnet, every ballet slipper is a reminder of the void left from dropping their daughter into a dry, dry well. Something must shrivel inside after such an act. Death can dwell among the living. There are those whose weakness betrays them, those whose souls have been claimed by darkness. This is not a story about them. This is not a story about the weak, or the dark; this is a story about the victorious—the women who wrestle with the destructive powers and pin them to the ground. This is a story about triumph.

***
I met Miku at the park on a chilly Thursday morning. My son was swinging upside down on the monkey bars as I sat on the bench, wrapped in a warm parka, sipping my Starbucks. Miku was straddled atop a blue Schwinn, her dark eyes soaking in the children kicking up the fall leaves. Their air smelled of fall: wood fires and wet leaves. Eventually, she wheeled the Schwinn over to my bench. We smiled, the polite distant smile that strangers give.

“Which one is yours?” I inquired, assuming that she was there with a watchful eye on her child, just as I was.

She gave a self-conscious laugh. “Oh, none of them,” she replied. “No children, myself. How about you?”

“Over there,” I pointed. “Riding the tire swing.”

We sat chatting about the weather and the new library being built—those mundane things that you discuss with strangers.

“Well,” Miku announced, standing up and mounting her bicycle, “I better head off. Nice to meet you.”

I watched her ride off in the same direction I had walked. She was hunched over the handlebars, her dark pony tail blown about in the wind. I turned back to my son, wondering why I was left with a weighty sadness at her departure.

I did not give much thought to my brief encounter with Miku until the following day, when I saw her wheeling her bicycle across the road near the grocery store. I caught her eye and gave a little wave as I turned my minivan into the parking lot.

“How are you?” I greeted her as I stepped out of the van. “It's strange we never met before. It seems that we frequent the same places.” I bent over to lift my son out of his car seat. Miku smiled down at him.

“And what's you're name?” She asked him.

“Jason,” He replied, gazing at her curiously.

“What a good helper, Jason, to go with your Mommy shopping,” she said with a smile.

Inner Peace

“A life of peace, purity, and refinement leads to a calm and untroubled old age.” -Cicero.

Inner peace is one of life's enigmas: the more vigorously it is pursued, the more elusive it becomes. Many spend their entire lives chasing after the next experience or achievement they believe will grant them the gift of personal peace, only to be disappointed once the initial high wears off. So how does one harness this feeling, and what are the best ways to live a stress-free life? I believe that the answers to those questions are best explored by coming to an understanding of one's identity through a relationship with their Creator.

The demands of our lives increase exponentially with every new technological leap, bringing along with them the side effects of stress and worry. I find that if I would mentally give myself over to the nagging worries that plague me, I would spend most of my waking moments under a burden of self-doubt and fear. Did I say the right thing in the meeting? Will I be able to please my boss? Am I good enough, smart enough, funny enough? Whenever I feel myself slipping into an unhealthy thought patterns, I go back to some advice bestowed upon me: Tell yourself the truth. The truth is that I am valued by a Creator who thought that I was important enough to breathe life into and to place in this world. The truth is that He has an eternal purpose for my life. Whenever I am unable to see past the daily stresses and anxieties of my life, I can find rest by looking at myself through His eyes. Going back to these fundamental truths, seeing myself through the eyes of a loving God, gives me perspective and peace.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.” -Jesus

All attempts to achieve inner peace through outward means will be futile if the spiritual being, the inner core of one's soul, is neglected. The fascinating truth is that all of us were placed on this earth intentionally, and we are valuable to our Creator. No matter how busy and stressful my day is, no matter how insignificant I feel, meditating on this truth sustains me.