Kristina Furey

Cry Of A Generation

2,262 miles driven since my last blog. Memories, in the form of items, retrieved from my late parent’s home. The past week has been a whirlwind, both physically challenging and emotionally hard. I had many hours along the way to think about the loss of my parents, my brother and how that loss has affected me. I can't think about it without considering all the parents that have lost their children to school shootings and the children that have lost their friends and their own sense of security.  What's happening to us? To our world?

My earliest thought approach to life was that we are all in God's waiting room and we, each of us, are equally important.  My expectation was that each of us needs to be served, in order for us as a whole to be served. So I've always tried to walk into the waiting room assessing the needs of those around me, asking myself if there's something I can do to help them, in hopes that perhaps I may get myself helped a little sooner.  That's what I thought and still think mostly but for a while there, I found myself so exhausted by the demands of those around me, who were only too willing to be helped but not so much willing to help in return. It was like feeding a black hole. Their needs constantly increasing along with their demands upon me to fill those needs. I was 20 and exhausted…  Just about the time I was waking up to the realization that perhaps, I was not in God's waiting room but Darwin's waiting room, I doodled this scribble. When I read it over, I could not make sense of it, there was just this feeling of having purged something sick out of myself.

I was 20 at the time.  Then when I was 23, I was reading a book by Anne Rice, “Interview With The Vampire”.  I started to get sweaty. I felt faint and got so sick I started emptying my gut, literally. I had to put the book down for at least 6 months before I could pick it up, read it again to its completion without feeling ill.  The vampires had placed a girl in a coffin and were keeping her there, until they had gotten all her life had to offer out of her, in blood. I thought about what I had written just a few years prior, when I wrote “Gabrielle”.

I know things. I like to believe you do too.  But I just don't know from day to day, if I'm in God's waiting room or Darwin's and I don't know if we need help or if we need to be evolved.   I do know, I'm wringing my hands while trying to assess these complications and I am being so careful not to handcuff myself, by pledging allegiance to what I no longer understand.  What I do know without a doubt is that I don't want to be part of the problem, I just want to be part of the solution and at times that means I stand by paralyzed, afraid of reacting in a way that will doom myself or someone else in some way. It is so hard to be patient in these moments when my brain is anxiously trying to assess and my heart is demanding I save it with some form of heart redeeming action.

There was another doodle I started about the same time as "Gabrielle".  Over the years, it evolved into a song, I titled, “Cry Of A Generation”.  I felt we were investing our time, energy and resources, in the wrong areas. I was extremely conflicted between nature's definition of success and societies.  I concluded, success of life can only be achieved, when we protect, preserve it, and give to it, what it needs to thrive but as you may deduce from my song, it was not an easy choice, choosing success for my children, over perceived success of myself among my peers.  Society plays against this. It arranges things just so. It has arranged things just so, that we find ourselves in the position we are in today and until society evolves and understands that we are all in this together, in God's waiting room, awaiting our miracle. It will be blind to it's own ability to answer its own prayers and deliver that miracle, with the grace of God that can be found in ALL of us.

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