How does one speak to a tired, frightened world? What can be said?
How does one find the bright side in the middle of the night?
Anyone who engages regularly with other human beings faces regular disappointment. Ignorance and ego are our demons, fear their warped offspring. Fear equals famine, of all the things that feed us, mind, body, and soul. We starve ourselves when others hunger for understanding, for compassion, for dinner, for security and shelter, for justice, for basic human dignity, for simple peace of mind. We are terrified, sure that we have so much to lose, not recognizing or accounting for the humanity that bleeds from us daily as we hold tightly to what we imagine ours, and ours alone.
How does one hope when grasping and grinding seem to outweigh grace, throwing it to the side, if it’s acknowledged at all?
Such ugliness as to break the heart; how does one witness it without succumbing to same, or without being broken in the knowing?
How do we keep counting on the quiet warmth of love, subtle and slow, to transform in the face of violence and force?
How do we keep the faith when it seems that that which will save all of us, love, seems so often to be overcome by selfish expediency?
Why are we so casually and calculatedly mean to each other?
Until we can see that there is only Us, and Them never were, we are imprisoned in an eternal, unnecessary, and destructive battle from which can emerge no true winners; only casualties, crippled for life in so many ways.
It’s easy to despair. It’s easy to surrender to the common delusion that there is only a single handbasket, and it’s headed straight to hell no matter what we think or do. Giving up is easy; hope requires something of us, costs us something even as it encourages us. Despair requires us to nurture nothing but our own self-righteousness and disgusted inaction.
“There’s nothing to be done.” Brush off our hands and walk away.
But to where?
Changing the world is not required of us; it’s an impossible task. Changing others is equally improbable. But to change our own perspectives, our own lives, our own minds for the kinder and better and more generous? THIS is what we were made for. Totally possible, and a revolution that, embarked upon, will change the world (not to mention brightening up our own little patches of it) for the better merely as an inevitable by-product.
Of this, I am certain, like I am certain about nothing else.
But how does one wait with patience?
How does one abide peacefully along with those who are deeply entrenched in wrongness, and still digging?
How does one maintain that everyone is evolving as fast as they can in the face of seemingly clear and abundant evidence that they are choosing not to?
There are no cynics; only disappointed, impatient dreamers who dare to keep believing (in spite of themselves) in the potential, if not the will.