Shit’s Happening
And it’s messing with us
I was first made aware of this in 1978, in San Francisco.
I was driving behind an old Ford Pickup and this piece of wisdom was pasted to the back bumper.
I thought it was funny.
Now I don’t.
Shit doesn’t just happen. It’s made.
Carefully. Gleefully. Without rhyme or reason and often just for the fucking hell of it.
Shit is universal. It’s measurable. Finite. It comes in various shapes, sizes, and modes of distribution.
It’s directed at others by both men and women — and in this way, it is fair and equitable.
Otherwise, it sucks.
It’s mean. Nasty and ill-tempered and it’s blind as a bat because it just doesn’t care.
But what is it?
What it is about shit that wreaks havoc upon us all?
Where did it come from and why is it still here?
Because I am absolutely sure I saw those words written in Latin on the walls somewhere in Pompei, amongst the ashes and memories of those who died a horrible death because of Vesuvius.
And that is shit happening in its most primitive form.
I am certain I read it in ancient texts from the Greeks and Sumerians and scrawled somewhere in the Vedic Hymns.
It was there then, is here now and Lord have Mercy will be here tomorrow.
But what the fuck is it?
It’s bad juju. It’s bad days and bad tempers and selfish acts of violence and an indiscriminate absence of common sense and compassion.
It’s not opening the door for another. It’s letting men harass women without coming to their defense.
It’s children going without breakfast.
It’s cheating on your wife or husband.
It’s not picking up dog shit in your neighbor’s yard — the one their children play in.
Or it’s not saying good morning to someone who needs it because you’re too busy, too important, and too focused on doing the real work in this society to bother.
Shit happens because it doesn’t start out looking that way. It looks like everyday stuff. Like what a preacher would do or say or what Mother Teresa did on her days off.
It’s normal looking and innocuous. Like your grandmother’s shoes or whiskers on a cat.
Shit begins life as nothing much. As too little to bother with and then becomes something wicked or repugnant.
Like shrimp chow mein left out next to the dumpster for six days.
Shit is indifference.
It’s cowardice dressed in trendy clothes and Gucci kicks.
Apathy when seeing the same thing over and over again.
It’s violence on TV and in video games that’s totally okay because it doesn’t hurt anyone.
Missing your mother’s birthday because you had to work, play or pretend you were studying for finals but were actually getting it on with your neighbor’s wife in her RV.
Shit doesn’t just happen.
It’s out there. Brought over in expensive bags and dumped.
Left on the curb, thrown out of car windows. Said to your child because your boss pissed you off.
Written on a Post-it and stuck to someone’s windshield because they parked too close to your Tesla.
Shouted into a phone. Whispered to a fearful little fourth-grader. Not taken back when you had the chance.
Fuck the bumper sticks and T-shirts it’s written on. That’s just marketing. Like: I Brake for no apparent reason.
It’s funny for a minute, then it’s gone.
But shit remains. It’s like Plutonium with a half-life of 12,000 years.
It sticks to your clothes, your shoes, and your soul and doesn’t come off easily. Even NASA couldn’t deal with it.
The remedy for Shit is not to make it.
Listen more. Talk less. Be kind. Be generous. Say, thank you. Greet someone you’ve never met who’s taller, shorter, richer than you, or homeless.
And if the urge to dish it out is creeping up inside you, with that maniacal voice whispering in your ear, tell it to piss off.
Shit doesn’t just happen.
It’s always been created. We shouldn’t expect it coming over the hill. Dropping down from on high. Or stuffed into our mailbox on the Fourth of July.
And if it’s marching in front of the local clinic, protesting whatever is trending, or whatever someone got their knickers in a twist over and now feels the need to let everyone, everywhere know about it, keep walking past it.
At the end of the day, any day, shit is nearby waiting to strike. Ignore it. Look away. Do something nice instead.
Will shit ever stop happening?
Probably not, but it’s all relative.
Like global warming, plastic bottles, and fast-food restaurants.
If we can reduce it by 10%, maybe even 20%, that’s a lot.
And if shit stops happening as often and people can stop looking over their shoulders wondering when it’s going to strike — then they’ll have more time for themselves and the planet.
And have some time left over to do nothing and actually enjoy it.
Shit, in its most basic form, is what’s left after everything good is taken out of it. It’s not worth holding on to. Let it pass — which is exactly what it does naturally.
Mother Nature’s got it covered.