As I come out of a constant battle of revisiting the battle grounds of trauma and I am more awake to the world, I'm sad at what I am seeing.
Politics intended to protect and liberate the humanity of individuals now prescribes their allowable expression and whether they are allowed to express what they think or feel, based on lines of group ownership which become more frequently fragmented and show no signs of slowing. Is the end game art that can only exist as self portraits, where I am not even allowed to draw my mother because she is a woman?
And there are people who let the anonymity and freedom of new technology to use freedom of speech to play out their psychological damage and attack the world in fiery rage. Some are playing, but games have meaning. Games can become action. What we were laughing about one day becomes a headline the next.
Tribes won't save us. Unless by save you just mean kill everyone who disagrees with you so that by default you will have a population that agrees with the same truth, merely because the other side is dead. Democracy by scythe.
Neither side appears to have an moral high ground when taken as separate groups. Everyone seems sunk by their confirmation bias whenever they speak.
Pain tells you something is wrong, but it doesn't always speak clearly; it is a lot of alarms. Our sensors were not made for the conditions we live in. The pain is real and it is from somewhere but we do not know ourselves very well. We lash out at the first object that comes into view after stubbing our toe. So we lash out at the next one, this object must be the cause of our pain. But, of course, our pain persists.
Revolution has more than one face. Which one will this next one wear? We are connected in ways never possible before. Revolution is usually contained in one community, but now, our community is so large. Maybe what we face is not a world war but a world revolution. What face will it wear?
And maybe this feeling in me is pain I misdiagnose. Maybe unplugging for awhile can help calm the alarms, the echoes of my own trauma still ringing. And when I plug back in I should think more about what I add to this revolution. Every time I add something I should think about whether it is really something based on love and really dealing with that pain and not just another bullet for a war.
Today I had a really nice day. I bought a spray bottle for the violas I bought and replanted them into a new container. They looked very happy, or, at least, I was very happy looking at them. I hope they grow well.