The San Bernardino shootings have me in a weird place. No, let me rephrase that. Not weird, angry. I am angry with my fellow humans, and nearly everything and anything is bound to set me off. The Pollyanna in me, the one who so easily sees the good, and the right, is wrung out and simply exhausted. Right now I have questions, and I want answers, and they won’t happen, and it just fuels the fire.
I won’t make this a political or social rant, because we’ve read them all before. My stance is irrelevant. Suffice to say, nearly everyone disgusts me today. I don’t care what political, socio-economic party you are affiliated with. I don’t care if you call this terrorism, domestic or otherwise. I simply don’t get people. I don’t get the pain that is so easily washed over us all, and at the same time doesn’t impenetrate any of us, because I feel if it did – if it really soaked in, collectively we would do something. Instead we stand there, angry and bewildered, and I am but one of those sheep, baaa’ing the crazed injustice of life in general. Just standing there, maybe weeping. Maybe with my mouth agape. Maybe looking around, wondering ultimately – how I can make this about myself? Because I feel that I see that so often. Some might say blogging about it is doing exactly that.
I really started this blog of with some mini-rants about my oh-so-small and overly inflated significant — yet oh-so-not — Life. I was rankled that you can ask a person how they are, and they can’t have the social courtesy to ask the same in return. I realized in thinking about this specific action, that it actually made me feel insignificant. Or less than significant. And it made me want to take back my “How Are You’s” to show them that they too are irrelevant.
But that’s not really the entire case. It all ties together. The case is being human, and wanting to be important. For a moment. Make me the focus of your moment, as I am making you. Because ultimately isn’t that what we want? To be important – whether it be to our child, our spouse, our employer, our friend? To have helped, to have made a difference in some small manner? I could delve so deep in the philosophy of why life matters to us as humans, because suddenly I am reminded that at any given moment some crazed person or persons with agendas that have nothing to do with me, can march into my meeting, or my social gathering and decide my life is over. No moments for good-byes. Just a swift fast penetrating bullet.
I should apologize for being so blunt, but today it’s how I feel. This situation touches home, but is yet so removed at the same time. Even thru the layers and layers of de-sensitivity we have. It’s common now. It’s embarrassing as Americans how common this is. I wondered yesterday as the news of this set in, is this how people in warring nations feel? I realized I am living in a warring nation, people just don’t see it yet. Bombs, guns, polar politicized and social agendas. It make us no different than those countries we fear. And people of other nations probably look at our lives in the same ways we do the warring nations. Fearing those gun-loving Americans who have these devastations a few times a month now.
When this happens, do I react today with the same shocked injustice that I did ten or fifteen years ago? Or does it merely ping me, make me momentarily sad, wash me over with a sense of helplessness before I move on? Am I embarrassed of that? Am I even cognizant of that? Does my empathy outweigh my need for information?
No I am sickened and overcome with anger. But I cannot be angered with the large things I feel I have no power over, so today I am angered over what I can control. The small minute instances in what is really my own small insignificant life.
So in answer to the unspoken question, “Me? I am fine. Thank you for asking.”