Fully Human: The Only Test

It is a simple pass-fail test.

It is the only test.

When the chips are down, when the sky has fallen, when you sit in ashes, when the concrete walls close, when you flail without hope of rescue,

Can you be human?

And by human, I mean fully human. I mean thinking. I mean feeling. 

Open and responsive. Honest and articulate. Grounded in your body. Integrated into your environment. 

A person among persons. 

Not a derelict. Not a bureaucrat. Not a lawyer or a banker or a business. Not a card counter or a game player. Not a liar or a cheat. Not a statue. Not a machine. Not ice.

I have watched people all my life fail this test. It has ceased to be amazing to me and has only become interesting.

Oops, there goes another one, I say to myself. Another potential friend or ally now destined for the garbage heap. A bot who walks into the same wall over and over and over again. Unable to see the window. Unfit to find the door.

Duly educated, I shake the dust off my limbs and hit the road.

Not here. Not that one or that one. 

Once you have taken the test and passed it, the test becomes easier to take and pass.

There is a curious joy, a strenuous purpose, in growing while others stand still or shrink.

On my deathbed, I won’t have a resume. My account statement will read, 

She was there. She did not fail.

I foresee other occasions. I practice rising.

Life, no #2 pencil required