When You Don’t Have Time To Spare; Volunteer.

I see you with your face illuminated by the soft blue light of the screen.

Your head bowed in reverence to a mechanical God.

Are you praying with your eyes open?

Maybe it is you that is being worshipped?

You count your “Friends” as blessings as offerings as acknowledgement that you are good or worthy or liked;

Oh there are the likes too and you like them as well.

You comment and tweet and have your ideas pinned and wriggling on a board.

Are they even your ideas? You don’t know anymore.

You go places and check in.

You are never alone, but you are lonely.

Take a selfie. Let them see the real you, airbrushed, filtered and cropped.

They adore you, you’re a profile picture, you are a fantasy created out of pixels and texts.

Your escapades get their pockets buzzing,

Pavlov’s dog has nothing on you.

Ding. Check. Repeat.

You get sucked into the scrolling vortex.

That phone call could have been a text.

That visit was less than envious.

Nothing to see here folks. I mean it was just you and me

and two screens, silence and no eye contact.

Don’t eat that until we document it.

Jealous. I will be right there.

But I won’t be present.

Too much distraction.

We lose track of time.

I can’t today, I am too busy.

If you don’t have time to spare; volunteer.

Trolling, armchair patrolling.

Hiding behind ideologies you type in caps.

Spouting rhetoric and hate. Did you even read your last post?

What do you know about that topic other than an article you just googled?

Butthurt and unfriended, signing petitions with a click of a button.

When did this become activism to type snide comments on someone’s wall?

You are a knowitall hiding behind your keyboard.

Could you be so rude to someone’s face?

Your momma might be horrified, to see what you did last night.

Here is the thing. It really does not mean a thing and yet it is everything.

I don’t want to say I don’t care what you had for dinner, because it did look delicious.

I know your kitchen is a mess though. Did you write about that?

Let me into your imperfection.

Authenticity is in short supply.

You fake a photograph and a smile, and alter a belief or two.

Who are you? Trust me we are all liars to some extent.

Extra! Extra! Read all about it.

I did it.

I don’t just talk the big talk I put my money where my mouth is because actions speak louder than words

my calloused hands are a constant reminder.

I took the photos to communicate in your language.

I don’t want the kudos, but I do want you to know; I did it.

I volunteer not for the fuzzy feeling or a pat on the back;

Your pedestal is not meant for people like me.

Honestly I feel like I have been down in the dirt for so long I needed to fight in the trenches.

Reality is not a notification it is this call to action.

If you believe in it, do it.

I dare you to make a difference.

Make a change.

When you don’t have time to spare; volunteer.

Even if it is only to be present for a moment, stand up and say your own life is worth living.

Happiness is something you should accept and nothing less.

Don’t wait to receive it. Give now.

Give what you have and if changing the world is not in your day planner today,

Maybe just give the change in your pocket,

Or a compliment,

Just a smile?

Sometimes a superhero is in an apron not a cape.

I know I volunteer with one.

One? Heck I volunteer with a whole army of them!

And you know what? I am honored for the opportunity to serve by their sides.

I made time.

Now grace and happiness are words that are becoming mine.

The very tools I want to unplug from I will use as weapons to fight ignorance.

Because not knowing is not bliss.

I want to be the change I want to see in the world and it starts with my own reality check not a check in online.

Dreaming and sleepwalking are not for me; I just want to be. Let me be. Even if you do not agree with me.

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