‘Hurry up and finish your breakfast.’ Mom’s eye was on the clock. Dreamer focused on sorting Cheerios floating in his bowl into color islands.
‘Get your boots on.’ Mom tried to hustle Dreamer along. Minnesota winters are cold and snowy. Dreamer sat on the floor carefully sorting a jumble of winter boots into pairs.
Stuffing Dreamer into his coat and hat, Mom wrapped a big scarf around his neck, ‘Go get in the car, hurry.’
Finally, they pulled into the baby sitter’s drive way. Half way up the snow covered side walk, Dreamer stopped. He turned toward his Mom; feet firmly planted, he said, “I like to go slow!”
Mom sagged with frustration. Only twenty feet to the baby sitter’s door and this three foot bundle of winter clothes stages a rebellion. She picked him up and wrestled him through the door.
The gentle whip lash of her necessity to hustle and Dreamer’s need for tranquility to explore his rich inner mind had no middle ground. She drove to work weighed down with conflicted guilt as gloomy as the leaden winter sky.
Caught between the racing clock of providing food and shelter and the calm nurture of her special needs son, what’s the right thing to do?
Push back for serenity of soul against an oligarchy pushing for hurry-up profits. Or accept an agitated America where delay is a dirty word!
We talk faster, walk faster, and travel faster - our clocks race at digital speed. We insist on fast food. We demand express check-out lanes. We expect overnight delivery – free! We accept nothing less than ‘right now’ service. Our questions must be answered instantly with tweets and text-messages.
Now at sixteen, Dreamer is officially labeled ‘handicapped/disabled’. He still demands serenity to find himself in the rich inner mysteries of his mind. His “I like to go slow!” revolt is not so cute anymore. It’s un-American!
I wonder! Who has a disability?
Those who massage Rule of Law to nullify a Social Contract that protects citizens from the insatiable demand of a hungry for profit oligarchy?
Or Dreamer, who plants his feet firmly, and says, “I need time and space to discover who I am”?
What do you think? The Bill of Rights allows us a loaded gun to protect our body and belongings. Do we also have a right to protect serenity enough to be ‘comfortable in our own spirit’?