The unexamined

pluck and proceed.

Sometime around 6:30 AM, still shuffling around in my purple, fuzzy bathrobe and half listening to the coffee grinder downstairs, I methodically perform the grey scan.

Starting just below my left ear, I draw a sharp part, and I check for any newbies--the white, wiry little buggers that might have pushed their way through over night. Occasionally, I notice a veteran intruder--one that I missed from previous days. I pluck and proceed, moving faithfully over the arc of my head.

Three minutes later, and I have completed the Do and Die, and my head is back in harmony.

And then the morning unfolds: brush the teeth; throw on something I've worn only once this week; search for the keys; I'm out the door.


~~~

Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" is a disturbing tale of human reluctance to question or reject tradition and routine. In her story, the townspeople partake in a yearly lottery. The reader expects that some glorious lottery--a large sum of money, a prize, or magic of sorts--will result. However, in the end, Tessie Hutchinson "wins" the lottery and is given the gift of death by stoning. Just like that, her dutiful husband, her young son, and the 300 expressionless townspeople become her executioners, hurrying to finish the process so they "can get back to work."

~~~

Following some gasps of shock and eyebrows wincing in disgust, my favorite 16-year-old cynic mutters, "Do you all seriously think this is shocking?"

"What do you mean?" I prod her.

"I mean do any of us really look at our routines...or anything we do..."

She's my student who scarcely remembers childhood innocence, who lost the manual to the game of "School" a while back, yet whose questions are so thought-provoking that her classmates often glance to me to see if I approve of the nature of her inquisitions.

I back-pedal to my corner stool and let her shake the classroom into a lively dialogue:

"What do we do everyday-- bad, good, whatever, but without thinking?"

The class mumbles:
"Eat."
"Crap."
"Yell at my mom."
"Get on the bus."

They all giggle.

"Um yeah," she responds, waiting for her classmates to draw the connection.

"Like how we bully the losers."
"....and smoke weed every day..."
"Follow a religion...."

And as the fervor begets Consciousness, our naked, unexamined lives begin to emerge from the glitter. And from the dust. Chuckling and gawking. Sitting there in the center. A dunce hat. A party cap. Thirsty, nonetheless.

"Whatever...or follow atheism..."

"Do what our parents do..."

"Eat too much..."

And absently, dutifully pluck grey hairs.

A song by the always lovely Kings of Convenience