This post is a brief and incomplete composition. I write it not to explain myself or anyone else. I write it only as an observation... a puzzling observation.
In our youth, we earn symbolism of our achievements -- letters, tokens, markings on something personally identifiable as only ours. We are awarded these marks and permitted to display them only after our strivings are measurably made and witnessed, records broken, milestones passed. We accept acknowledgement for that which meets a prescribed standard. When distinction fades with time, when we choose another definition of our personhood, we remove our letters and put them in the closet. We remember them with admiration -- not only for the symbols, but also for ourselves.
But this culture of marking bears a darker side. There are other letters. They are "unfit" for ceremony, an unrelenting scarlet. Some of them are earned, but others not. Some we bestowe for that which is evidenced, but others we affix by sole suspicion. They are without revocation. They cannot be shrugged away for changing seasons. No dark corner hides them. They are precursors of both our affections and aggressions.
I desist further prose to this. I do not know the reason why "we think and so 'they' are". Any criticism here is first my own. The letters on this screen reflect the ones I bear, the ones I ascribed without justification, the ones that spell out the unspeakable... and often the untrue.
"....He was despised, and we esteemed Him not." - Isaiah 53:3
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