Perhaps spiritual inconsistency is befitting a man such as myself, a hybrid species of weekend-Buddha and weekday-pariah. Inconsistency is a mark most noticeable, more apparent than any brand burnt unto unwilling skin. We can become accustomed to all kinds of horror, assured repetition prevails. It is a sad thing. It is not so strange, then, that uncomfortable truths – all but painfully apparent but blatantly ignored – become a source of such turmoil.
Anomalies and inconsistencies refusing to bow down or take a knee before the tyrant sitting upon the throne of normality, waving a scepter of conformity in our faces. He has become tainted, spreading a disease called mediocrity to souls undeserving of such cruel punishment. A celebrated crown of sameness, stagnant and doomed to rust, corroded by blatant racism and ignorance – the inseparable siblings. In a kingdom of nothing but glorified gold, led becomes all the more valuable. Profane idols and desecration of human decency.
No, I will have none of it. I will continue my worship of the goddess named diversity and hope that noticeable inconsistency can nurture culture and inspire compassion. It does not take a sage to know that it is right to love.