Not what I expected. I wrote up a post on the Nazca Lines, but it didn’t feel right posting it today, acting as if yesterday’s tragedy didn’t happen. So, I decided to be honest,
and I encourage you to be as well in the comments.
and I encourage you to be as well in the comments.
It’s the middle of the night and I honestly don’t know what to post. Should I post how pissed I am? That every time I see #PrayForBoston on my twitter dash, I want to rip my hair out just as I did with #PrayForNewton. Pray for them? To whom should I pray? To the Gods that let children be shot or blown up? I’m beginning to feel more like prey! I send Boston love, and I hope they are strong, but that is a less catchy hashtag I suppose.
Should I talk about how this one act will alter the lives of thousands of people? Some were physically shattered, others will never feel safe again, and as I write this three people who should be in this world aren’t. My head screams the reminder, they were all someone’s child!
Should I talk about what loss can do to people? How it tears them in half. How they will always be a ‘before and after’ version of themselves. That I’ve felt the agony of wondering how your world can be demolished, and yet the sun has the audacity to shine, the birds have the nerve to sing. Of learning a universal truth, although we may share a loss we ultimately suffer alone.
I want to talk about how this is never ok. It’s not ok that when the news broke into my Dr. Phil episode, I was not surprised. I was not shocked by the evil of men. As a species, we’ve seen that much violence. I think how debates are so incredibly useless. Gun violence is the flavor of the year, yet here we sit, guns didn’t cause yesterday’s massacre. It’s not a pro-gun example. It’s an example of the ingenuity and fortitude of evil men to do evil things. Take away guns, bombs, knives, it doesn’t matter, they will find a way.
Last time it was planes.
I want to say this is the world. The new world. It’s bloodier and more violent than it used to be as recently as twenty years ago. I want to prove to myself it’s not as hopeless as it seems, so I rewatch the footage of the explosions and I count the people running toward disaster not away. The people who wanted to help others they didn’t know, in an unknown and dangerous arena. I want to see the puzzle, the pattern, something that will make another tragedy seem logical or necessary.
But I count until my eyes are tired and the screen is blurred.
I guess I want to say, let’s all try to be better. Let’s attempt to live in a world where a Monday afternoon massacre is incomprehensible. Don’t be a saint, just leave places better when you walk away. We have to fix this, eachother, we have to adopt the resilience of evil men. We need to find our own way, but we can’t make it on our own. We need one another.
I guess I need to say that in the end there will be more moments of joy than heartache.
I will say it to myself and to you.
Until at least one of us believes it.
Should I talk about how this one act will alter the lives of thousands of people? Some were physically shattered, others will never feel safe again, and as I write this three people who should be in this world aren’t. My head screams the reminder, they were all someone’s child!
Should I talk about what loss can do to people? How it tears them in half. How they will always be a ‘before and after’ version of themselves. That I’ve felt the agony of wondering how your world can be demolished, and yet the sun has the audacity to shine, the birds have the nerve to sing. Of learning a universal truth, although we may share a loss we ultimately suffer alone.
I want to talk about how this is never ok. It’s not ok that when the news broke into my Dr. Phil episode, I was not surprised. I was not shocked by the evil of men. As a species, we’ve seen that much violence. I think how debates are so incredibly useless. Gun violence is the flavor of the year, yet here we sit, guns didn’t cause yesterday’s massacre. It’s not a pro-gun example. It’s an example of the ingenuity and fortitude of evil men to do evil things. Take away guns, bombs, knives, it doesn’t matter, they will find a way.
Last time it was planes.
I want to say this is the world. The new world. It’s bloodier and more violent than it used to be as recently as twenty years ago. I want to prove to myself it’s not as hopeless as it seems, so I rewatch the footage of the explosions and I count the people running toward disaster not away. The people who wanted to help others they didn’t know, in an unknown and dangerous arena. I want to see the puzzle, the pattern, something that will make another tragedy seem logical or necessary.
But I count until my eyes are tired and the screen is blurred.
I guess I want to say, let’s all try to be better. Let’s attempt to live in a world where a Monday afternoon massacre is incomprehensible. Don’t be a saint, just leave places better when you walk away. We have to fix this, eachother, we have to adopt the resilience of evil men. We need to find our own way, but we can’t make it on our own. We need one another.
I guess I need to say that in the end there will be more moments of joy than heartache.
I will say it to myself and to you.
Until at least one of us believes it.
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