Oh sacred cow

(Our home is tucked away under the palm trees with the green trim)

This morning I stood on the porch with Shane. We like doing that throughout the day. We soak in the colors and sounds and sights from the front-porch observatory while the shade protects us from the hot sun. The moving kaleidoscope never fails to deliver. Bright yellow buses pass by with school children, men ride bikes and tweet-tweet their horns, women push carts filled with onions and lemons, boys and girls riffle through the garbage dump, hunched-over women sweep the dirt road, gangs of dogs fight over territory, lines of water buffalo thread their way through the overgrowth, and the hum and buzz of motorcycles, trucks, and cars never cease for even a moment.

An open plot of land directly before us was bought 8 months ago, but it remains barren. It may be years before enough money is saved for any building project. It is now overgrown. Today I observed another person feeding the cows that linger in this open plot of land. Our neighbors first began feeding them months back. Food is prepared especially for the cows. Today I watched another man, an old man who visits the plot for "bathroom purposes" almost every day. He has also begun to feed the cows. Emptying the contents from a plastic bag the cows eagerly saunter over. This man is neither an animal rights activist, nor the owner of the cows. He, just like the others, are preforming a good deed. The cow is sacred, the cow is holiness reincarnate. Feed the cow and you feed your soul with goodness, and this kindness will surely to be rewarded.

There are so many levels that could be discussed here, but my first response is gut-level. I am disheartened. A large part of me mourns death of humanity. Something isn't right here. Or at least it doesn't feel right. Something is out of perspective. Children eye the garbage heap for plastic bags to recycle for a few pennies in exchange for few bights in return; a teenage garbage-collector toots his whistle when he's come to gather the trash by hand; dogs share the same pile with rats and teens, children, old men and women. And the cows eat from the hands of humanity to bless humanity.

This is merely the perspective from an outside observer. I am certain that the rewards of this good deed is indeed quite tantalizing and wonderful. I also know that the blood runs very thick and very deep for those who've practiced certain rituals for decade upon decade.

Today, the kaleidoscope shifted its colors and left me both feeling and thinking. The colors bled together and the good and the bad, culture and world-view, reality and ideal soak into a confusing tapestry. I have no quick answer for this gut-level observation.

But this I know. I want to be blessed too, just like the old man. I want the rewards of doing good. I want blessings and not the curses. I want to do "whatever it takes" to get my God on my side. My blood runs thick as well with rituals and practices.

I just want it in a different way for a different reason. But that doesn't necessarily make me better or them worse. If anything at all, it makes us the same.