of bugs and men. . . .or Albuquerquean bugmen

Tonight I was walking back to the apartment in the dark after errands and a trip to the grocery store. There had been some drunk men waiting for the same bus as I and I didn’t feel safe. One guy even vomited as he was getting on. My pregnant nose could smell the stomach acid before I knew anybody was sick. Then, as I was walking back on a very dimly lit Garfield, I was thinking about the dog that was loose, running wild the other night. Made me turn around and go another way. Tonight I was thinking about all these things, and I was afraid. Afraid because this city feels really agressive and unfriendly at night. I realized that three years ago, I would have asked God to keep me safe. I would have felt better, talking to someone on the way.

Now I think that it is naive to ask God to keep one safe. I do not trust God to keep me unscathed. I don’t know if it’s that God doesn’t care; it’s just that the world is an unsafe place and many people have not been spared, even though they’ve asked fervently. It’s also that I do not speak to God anymore. God only says harsh things, but mostly, God doesn’t speak at all.

I like the idea that God is an equal opportunist; that God is rooting for the bacteria on earth just as much as the mammals. That in the end, the AIDS virus is as valid an entity as humanity. I like the idea less when I think about the cub, but that’s just my compulsion towards survival talking. Or is it more than that? I have a central nervous system; a virus does not. I can be altruistic (perhaps); an amoeba cannot.

Maybe we’ve got it all wrong and God does not speak to us, our brains getting in the way. Maybe God only speaks to the single-celled organisms in the world. Maybe they are the ones who can hear.