Inside

​I make a pretty mean poached egg.  I do not cook much, but I will volunteer to cook poached eggs.  We had them every day growing up.  It was part of breakfast.  Cereal followed by a poached egg.  A doctor refused to do a blood test on me one time.  He told me if I had eaten one egg he would have, but I had eaten two.  Apparently, it messes with the cholesterol.
Cracking the egg to go in the pan works mostly, but sometimes it does not.  It always means breaking the shell to get to what is inside.  I expect it to be a chook egg.  I would be very surprised if a crocodile or snake emerged.
I knew a fella who had been captured in world war two and held as a prisoner of war.  They did terrible things to him.  He was interviewed on tv.  He said “I can never forgive them.”  He later told me he regretted saying that.
Sorta like eggs.  Please try and stay with me.  There is no doubt in my mind that what is inside comes out.  I can talk all lovey dovey, but when the pressure is on, what is inside comes out.  Like I expect a chook egg in an egg.  When I crack it, what is inside comes out.
I quote Martin Luther King Jn a lot.  Seems to me he said heaps I like.  “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”  If there is hate inside it will come out.”
There is that topic again.  I guess it was inevitable I ended up on that as one of the songs that played this morning was “The Hardest Art” by Switchfoot.  It had the words “And maybe I'm the only one, But it feels like love is the hardest art to learn.”  Ain’t that the truth.  It is for me anyway.  It does not come easy.  The movies portray that it does, but experience teaches differently.  Like the song says “Every movie makes love seem easy, They fall in love like the fire burns.”  Falling in love is just stage one though.  Love is both give and take.  It is not all one way. 
This is not a comment on the movement described, but the principle has merit to me.  “The sadness of the women's movement is that they don't allow the necessity of love. See, I don't personally trust any revolution where love is not allowed.” (Maya Angelau)
I see that in heaps of movements at the moment.  Protests where the cause may be just, but the means are questionable at best.  Protesting in lock down like no one else matters.
What is inside comes out.  If love is the cause, then love needs to be the means.  It may not be easy, and perhaps what is inside needs to be dealt with, but that is the sort of thing where I am happy to say “count me in.”