There's an old George Carlin routine that goes, "You know how when you are driving on the road, everyone going faster than you is a maniac, but everyone going slower is an idiot?"
Yes, that.
Lately, I have a sort of spiky feeling inside me, one that doesn't want to give people the benefit of the doubt, doesn't want to give way, doesn't want to try to understand. It's the ragey feeling that Carlin describes so well. It's not generally how I think about people or life in general, so it feels awful to feel like this.
I keep going back to Ulrich Lehner's bit in God Is Not Nice, where he talks about the most basic definition of love. It is acknowledging: It is good that you exist.
That's it. Everything that proceeds from that statement then determines how we treat the other person and interact with them. Sounds simple, but it isn't, not really. Not when you get down under the statement and think about what it means to say: it is good that you exist.
I keep thinking too how we are all grieving--as a nation, as a world--for all that has been lost in the past months, and for all that will not be in the months to come. We're not very good at grieving, culturally speaking, so it comes out in weird ways. There's been denial and anger, depression and bargaining, but I don't think any of us has come to real acceptance of the thing. That life is never going to be as it was, and some things are going to be forever changed.
Does that mean we will always feel out of control and crazy? No. Does that mean that the current stage is the "new normal?" Of course not. But it does mean that this maelstrom of grief has to be gone through in order to emerge on the other side in a place of healing and growth. If we don't go through it, the grief will continue to haunt us, to leak around the edges until it has its way. There's no way forward but through the tunnel.
It's a messy business, all of it.
Yes, that.
Lately, I have a sort of spiky feeling inside me, one that doesn't want to give people the benefit of the doubt, doesn't want to give way, doesn't want to try to understand. It's the ragey feeling that Carlin describes so well. It's not generally how I think about people or life in general, so it feels awful to feel like this.
I keep going back to Ulrich Lehner's bit in God Is Not Nice, where he talks about the most basic definition of love. It is acknowledging: It is good that you exist.
That's it. Everything that proceeds from that statement then determines how we treat the other person and interact with them. Sounds simple, but it isn't, not really. Not when you get down under the statement and think about what it means to say: it is good that you exist.
I keep thinking too how we are all grieving--as a nation, as a world--for all that has been lost in the past months, and for all that will not be in the months to come. We're not very good at grieving, culturally speaking, so it comes out in weird ways. There's been denial and anger, depression and bargaining, but I don't think any of us has come to real acceptance of the thing. That life is never going to be as it was, and some things are going to be forever changed.
Does that mean we will always feel out of control and crazy? No. Does that mean that the current stage is the "new normal?" Of course not. But it does mean that this maelstrom of grief has to be gone through in order to emerge on the other side in a place of healing and growth. If we don't go through it, the grief will continue to haunt us, to leak around the edges until it has its way. There's no way forward but through the tunnel.
It's a messy business, all of it.






