I was thinking of taking my “rant” about Norway down. Killing it.
I was thinking it might be hurting you and others.
It might be insensitive. It might be completely wrong. Out of line. Madness. My madness.
I wrote it on Monday, the day after ~ I can’t remember when, exactly.
Lately, I’ve been turning day into night…
My sleep cycle is all over the map. I was speaking from emotion, more than reason. Pure feeling. Not stream of consciousness. That would be too kind. And incorrect.
Just bald, naked, raw anger and fear. Fury, about how such a horrible and horrifying act of violence could happen to such a beautiful nation of peaceable people.
Other things were playing in the background of my mind, too.
Closer to home…
Right here, within me. It was, perhaps, a moment of craziness. Or, perhaps, a Truth in the Moment. I don’t know. I’m not sure. I’m not sure about a lot of things these days.
Then, your comments started coming in and keep on coming. Curious, because I’ve been stuck for the last few days trying to write anything. A letter of condolence or a blog post or a feature. Stuck and shattered by the headlines I’m reading about Norway and other stories, about and from other places, including Washington and Toronto.
Disturbing stories. Stories that make me feel as if the ground beneath my feet is going soft. That my basic foundations are beginning to crumble.
Here’s another truth I’m living right now…
My front lawn looks like a war zone. Like World War I.
There’s a deep trench where my front lawn used to be. Instead of grass and stone steps, now, there’s a huge hill of dirt.
My front steps and door are cordoned off behind red tape. The word “Danger” is printed on it.
I enter into and exit from my house through a door to the garage from my office. We’re being “waterproofed” and it’s taking a long time.
So, we’re a little topsy turvy here, like the world feels to me…
Plus, I will confess, there are problems even closer to home than that. Right here, within me. Problems I want to write to you about, but cannot.
So, keep commenting on my rant, if you wish. I will not kill this blog post or your comments, as that would be an act of cowardice.
Your words, your ideas, your thoughts, your reflections are all very soothing, but at the same time, disturbing, too. For me.
What happens after a Moment of Silence?
What happens after you reflect and think and process? What happens to change what happened and what’s happening?
You go back to your daily lives? And then what?
Do we go to where the root causes of our fury lies? To where these wild acts of destruction live?
What do we do to change them? How can we change them? Or do we just look, and gradually, turn away. Archive that story, after our Moments of Silence and remember.
Forget to step closer to see the hatred and ignorance and anger and prejudice. The negative stereotypes. The biases. Where the real and emotional or imagined barriers between us lie? Do we look there? How can we change all that? How do we change ourselves? Do we band together to make changes?
Or do we just go back to our computers and our smart phones and our iPads?
So we can watch, until the next breaking news story grabs the headlines…
We stick those tiny earphones back deep inside our ears and click onto iTunes and go back to connecting to each other in the isolation of cyberspace and the planned “dance cards” of our social networks?
Where our reality is our own. Where reality can become blurred with unreality. Where we forget that we are all connected to each other. That we’re all related. That we can all touch each other. That we’re all a family. One family.
I don’t know. I really don’t know. I wish I did.
I ask you, honestly, how is this going to change. With silence? Or screams?