Cathartic rant, with a call to action.
Mar. 21st, 2003 02:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kitchen_kinkThis morning in the elevator I saw someone with with a secret smile I recognized: that smile of someone who's just left the bed of someone he's mad for, or who has a date later with a massive crush. It was a smile I missed having, and I almost asked him about it, but felt it was obvious. He carried it all the way to the 15th floor.
I was in bad shape last night, and when I awoke--filled with that vague, crippling sadness--but I slowly worked myself out of it, until, upon arrival at work, I felt better. I have to be careful not to let it creep back in on me tonight.
This morning, I was sitting at the front desk with no computer--I couldn't log in because the person with the password was out. I wanted to see how I would do without its glare, its draw, its addictive properties. I was twitchy for a while, missing email and LJ, and the collective weight of everyone else's sadness.
And I wondered if that was in fact the problem: am I being dragged into the mire by being online so much?
Much like the endless viewing of CNN can solidify, and make impossible to shake, the horror of an event like 9/11; or like multiplication tables and religious dogma are force-fed to us and thus branded into the flesh of our minds forever, indulgence in daily weeping and praying and ranting and exposure to immense screaming bandwidths of information--pro-war, anti-war, every possible perspective, every conceivable possibility, every reality and paranoia and utopic vision--it weighs me down. It fills me with imparseable facts, a complete spectrum of opinion from which it is impossible to glean any truth, and a full gamut of painful emotions. Add to this that most of the people I read on a daily basis are friends of mine, whose opinions and feelings I care deeply about, all of whom are hurting in one way or another--inconsolably depressed, impotently angry, soul sick, numbed into quiescent indifference--of course it's going to affect me.
I'm upset about the war. Of course I'm upset about it. It's a cycle of upset: I'm crushed that we're over there, unjustly, bombing a decimated country; I'm frustrated that I can't feel more for people I am so far away from, and that my pity and horror means nothing coming from my place of privilege. I feel guilty for that same place of privilege and feel I have no right to any opinion about Iraqi or any other suffering. And then I feel so angry at my government, for only allowing their voices of greed and hatred and superiority to reach overseas, for making their voices of pomp and condescension, their ridiculous ideas of themselves as Saviors of the World, represent me, while my small voice of dissent and outrage and pity and sadness is crushed into a poor caricature of America to the rest of the world.
But that's not what's making me this depressed. I've shut off the wail of the world before; I can do it again.
It's my friends' voices.
From the most ardent peace activists to my least political and ambivalent friends, everyone is feeling this, everyone is frustrated or feel helpless to do anything, everyone's dreams are being haunted, everyone is overwhelmed and depressed and angry, and most of all, everyone just wants it to stop.
And I believe that this energy is not just cumulative but exponential, that all of this surfing and reading and very collective grieving is creating a cloud of fear and doubt and hatred and suffering, that we need to reach out to each other and spread some kind of positivity, that, whether I believe in it or not, we have to work some kind of magic, if not to stop this war, then at least to stop us all becoming casualties of it.
We are a community here, there's no doubt about that. Singly, we're all carrying our own wounds. Collectively, we're bleeding to death.
Is it time, perhaps, for us to fight our own war, against this darkness that's swallowing us all, day by day?
I was in bad shape last night, and when I awoke--filled with that vague, crippling sadness--but I slowly worked myself out of it, until, upon arrival at work, I felt better. I have to be careful not to let it creep back in on me tonight.
This morning, I was sitting at the front desk with no computer--I couldn't log in because the person with the password was out. I wanted to see how I would do without its glare, its draw, its addictive properties. I was twitchy for a while, missing email and LJ, and the collective weight of everyone else's sadness.
And I wondered if that was in fact the problem: am I being dragged into the mire by being online so much?
Much like the endless viewing of CNN can solidify, and make impossible to shake, the horror of an event like 9/11; or like multiplication tables and religious dogma are force-fed to us and thus branded into the flesh of our minds forever, indulgence in daily weeping and praying and ranting and exposure to immense screaming bandwidths of information--pro-war, anti-war, every possible perspective, every conceivable possibility, every reality and paranoia and utopic vision--it weighs me down. It fills me with imparseable facts, a complete spectrum of opinion from which it is impossible to glean any truth, and a full gamut of painful emotions. Add to this that most of the people I read on a daily basis are friends of mine, whose opinions and feelings I care deeply about, all of whom are hurting in one way or another--inconsolably depressed, impotently angry, soul sick, numbed into quiescent indifference--of course it's going to affect me.
I'm upset about the war. Of course I'm upset about it. It's a cycle of upset: I'm crushed that we're over there, unjustly, bombing a decimated country; I'm frustrated that I can't feel more for people I am so far away from, and that my pity and horror means nothing coming from my place of privilege. I feel guilty for that same place of privilege and feel I have no right to any opinion about Iraqi or any other suffering. And then I feel so angry at my government, for only allowing their voices of greed and hatred and superiority to reach overseas, for making their voices of pomp and condescension, their ridiculous ideas of themselves as Saviors of the World, represent me, while my small voice of dissent and outrage and pity and sadness is crushed into a poor caricature of America to the rest of the world.
But that's not what's making me this depressed. I've shut off the wail of the world before; I can do it again.
It's my friends' voices.
From the most ardent peace activists to my least political and ambivalent friends, everyone is feeling this, everyone is frustrated or feel helpless to do anything, everyone's dreams are being haunted, everyone is overwhelmed and depressed and angry, and most of all, everyone just wants it to stop.
And I believe that this energy is not just cumulative but exponential, that all of this surfing and reading and very collective grieving is creating a cloud of fear and doubt and hatred and suffering, that we need to reach out to each other and spread some kind of positivity, that, whether I believe in it or not, we have to work some kind of magic, if not to stop this war, then at least to stop us all becoming casualties of it.
We are a community here, there's no doubt about that. Singly, we're all carrying our own wounds. Collectively, we're bleeding to death.
Is it time, perhaps, for us to fight our own war, against this darkness that's swallowing us all, day by day?
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no subject
Date: 2003-03-21 12:40 pm (UTC)Yes.
I keep trying to do things that generally restore my sanity, keep in close touch with my loved ones and stay informed--and it's just not quite enough. It's hard to cast for possible positive outcomes of this unjust war, which so many people I care about have been standing up against, without somehow acqueising to it. Is it even possible to hope for some good to come out of this dark moment without being swallowed up in it and by it?
It brings me back to my favorite Lorca poem, with it's refrain, of "no queiro verla," about a man watching his friend being bested by a bull in a bullfight. I know this is happening, and the worse that happens we'll probably never know about, but "I Don't Want to See It."
It's a child's refrain, really. I should be able to look this all in the eye, even if I can't really change it.
We do need to fight against the collateral psychological damage this situation is inflicting on those we love. I don't know how, but I totally agree.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-21 12:53 pm (UTC)I wonder sometimes if this is almost a variation on 'survivor's guilt'. *sigh*
Don't give up . . .
Date: 2003-03-21 12:59 pm (UTC)Don't try to be a martyr sweetling.
Just because you are privledged don't mean your compassion or feelings mean less. At least you are aware of your privledged status. The fact that you know how good you have it, means you aren't like the bureaucratic fat cats, sitting smugly on Capital Hill, with their empty illusions of how what they are doing is justified.
There was a quote from "Buffy" that I really like.
"The hardest thing about life is to live it." Or something like that. I might just be just paraphrasing.
You live. We all live. And what we must do now is not turn a blind eye to the events that are even now unfolding.
We must not despair. Despair signals the end of the desire to go on. We need to go and fight all the harder to be heard. We need to hold one another and be there for one another. We need to somehow find the glory and the perfect tranquility in the most overlooked seemingly insignificant moments in our lives.
Today all around me I can't help but see the absolute majesty of my world. I'm in love with life and I want to believe that regardless of the evils of this war, life will continue to be worth living. All around me there are the echos of those in pain, suffering, and misery. That's the hardest thing to learn when you are somewhat empathic. You can't save them all. Somedays I forget and when I see someone hurt, if they let me close enought to realy feel and even understand their pain then I want to take it from them. "I'm better able to shoulder this burden for you, I think. "I know how to suffer and I should spare you because it will hurt me less to feel what you feel, then it will to have to watch you struggle with it." Heck, there are days I can't even save myself. But I have such unbridled love in my heart if only I remember to look and see that it is there, always. The simplest things bring me a ridiculous amount of joy.
Today it was pancakes. Ro, had limited amounts of time and still he insisted on making me pancakes. And so I proceeded to do the happy-super-bouncy pancake dance in our kitchen.
The best thing that you can do is find a way to bring your loved ones as much beauty and rapture as you can manage.
Burn beautiful and bright. Reach out to those who would accept your help.
Hang in there.
Thoughts
Date: 2003-03-21 01:14 pm (UTC)I'd add to your list of feelings: shocked, awed, and responsible.
As for reaching out to each other, I've been lucky. Thanks for the reminder of that. I got to spend the evening of the breakout with close friends, protest with those who are most my community here, and plan to spend a quiet and, I hope, comforting evening with
no subject
Date: 2003-03-21 01:16 pm (UTC)I heard of your post through northbard, of the peace meme
Life’s not a song.
Life isn’t bliss.
Life is just this.
It’s living.
You’ll get along.
The pain that you feel
Only can heal
By living.
You have to go on living.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-21 02:35 pm (UTC)(And if you want to come over and raid my closet for peace and sanity sometime next week, just let me know.)
Perspective
Date: 2003-03-22 05:16 pm (UTC)I mean, I don't like the war, but now that it's started, I'm not feeling oh-my-god-I-want-to-curl-up-and-die bad. I'm hoping that some good gets done accidentally, and Iraq ends up better off in the long run, even though I know that's not why President Buttonhead gave the order. Maybe that means I'm not screaming raging liberal extremist, but I don't think it makes me a bad person that I'm not beating myself up over things beyond my control.
All I can say is, be kind to each other. And vote. And pay attention to your Congressfoo. And nag the Democrats to stop looking under rocks and in the back of the refrigerator for their candidates. Do what is in your power, and then don't beat yourself up about what isn't. Atrocities worse than this have happened every single year of human history, without exception. They will continue to happen for a long, long, time. That does not mean we should curl up in little balls of misery, it means we should hang in there, not expect Utopia tomorrow, and work for Utopia someday.
If you find this heartless and cynical, I apologize for giving offense.