Me Tarzan. You Other Shoe

In the end, intellect may only take you thus far; a thought that -even for my theist sensibilities - is troubling. But truly, unless you are or embody the attributes of an empath, you may not necessarily understand a person or situation unless you're wearing the other shoe [i.e.: theirs]. Which brings us to this:

Two weeks ago, we had my grandmother's funeral. Through the swirling vortex of emotion, I tried to keep my head up and my eyes dry. But as the days drew closer I started to get all the more agitated. That is, until I poured the Rum Punch. Oh glorious rum punch; ye splendid algorithm of alcohol. One night I poured a small amount and drank with one gulp. No ice, no ceremonious concoctions; just a glass and a swig of rum punch. I felt GREAT. Peaceful. Calm. ... I understood right then and there WHY people drink. In that moment, I became the settled nerve at the prescription of Dr. Alcohol... And that's just rum punch.

I already subscribe to the belief of hypothesizing the other person; showing understanding and empathy to/for another's situation; this is why I try not to judge or rather, not judge before I hypothesize every option. But honestly, some days LIFE itself puts your foot in another's shoes to understand what it's all about. By the way, I still love my rum punch; I just don't need it for nerves anymore.

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