“Consciousness is the vast expanse that has always been ‘behind’ you. It is you, and your job is to simply live in that place.” – sentiment from a mindfulness app I have on my phone, and an echo of the nature of existence heard through many hallways of learning (and unlearning).
Here on the brink of war in the world, where there has been conflict for time eternal, I try to find words, just like every other human trying to metabolize fellow human tragedy. There is no value in telling you how far removed I am from the attacks and politics and faiths involved– I don’t matter in this dialogue. And that is a privilege of which I am aware and grateful for. My only role, as in any situation, really, is to pray for and hope for the best possible outcome with the least amount of loss. We are all we have; we are one. There is no Other.
Writing is an act of creation and acquisition, an alchemy reliant on the words used billions of times, heaped together in a way that matters or means something or imparts wisdom anew.
It’s undeniably easy to put words together, and there are technologies around today that can do it even better than I can, and that’s why I’ll probably never have a career as a writer (see how I just dismissed the possibility of my most desired future? Ouch). That was painful, and I hope I’m very wrong about that.
I have found it incredibly challenging to write when I feel the suffering in this moment in time. I can’t avoid the news, hard as I try, and I am forever struck by the human capacity for cruelty, both people who dole out cruelty and the amount of cruelty a person and people can endure.
My instinct is to adopt more kittens. Even though that act will never be enough to tip the scales in an unjust world, it is something I am happy to do.
Which, at the core of me, is probably what I am meant to do in moments of strife, and perhaps always: Do something I am happy to do.
And friends, I am happy to write.
Even when I can’t come up with words of comfort, or make jokes, or tell stories worth a grain of salt in a world numbed by pain, I will always want to write. Not because I believe myself profound or important, but because that’s the reflex I have when struck by humanity and all its troubles and joys– I am here to share. And be present. And let you know there is good in this world, and love is real. (just ask my cats)
We are the good. We are love. And that cannot be taken from us.
Loving is where true freedom is ❤️