The Only Way Out of the Maze is Up

On our trek to the closest Methodist church we ran into a group of bikers that were trying to occupy DuPont Circle. There were only about 20-30 bikers there.  And a whole lot of pro pot peeps across the street. 

We stepped into a Krispy Kreme to get a coffee and found myself in line with a very large biker. We started chit chatting -he came from PA with his biker friends. He was sporting a confederate flag and various pins- but called the African American cashier “little miss”- which was not only cute but sweet. I was sporting my pink pussy hat (thanks mom! Making a lot of friends with it!)

He made a comment under his breath about Black Lives Matter starting a fight with some bikers. We talked about violence and that I was here for tomorrow. I paid for his coffee over his protestations. Then we talked about my hat. He is of the mind that what Trump 😡 said was 10 years ago and that his wife wasn’t angry. I politely came back with stats and my hope that I can begin to expect more from the men in my country. 

He talked about how he smacked a man for smacking his daughter in the face. That he doesn’t abide abuse against children. We were both polite and kind and we left feeling like we had a little bit in common. 

Still in search our our church we stopped by a burned out church that was a victim of arson in 1970. There was prayer labyrinth in the church square where a homeless man sat. 

“How do you get out,” asked Sarah Jane.  

“The only way out of the maze is up.” Answered the homeless man. 

So it is. 

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