this happened to me last year. i was writing about the UN Commission on Human Rights (which turned out to be the last one, say true) and i realised that i was being extremely glib about very serious things. i forced myself to write an apology to all my readers as my tone and presentation were completely inappropriate for the seriousness of crimes against humanity being discussed at the Commission.
i feel i have been doing the same here, and i realise now that this glibness in my writing is a defense mechanism. there is a deep sadness that haunts me which i will not admit to and so i make jokes and try to be clever and witty, but it is only an act. i’ve been needing to dig deeper. look closer.
everyone carries so much pain and sadness with them. very few decide to share that pain with other human beings, and therein lies the rub. in a time when the hypocrisy of world powers becomes more and more evident, just look at the hubbub over iran’s nuclear weapons when it takes more than two hands to count all the nations in the world who possess nuclear weapons and have used them recently or are prepared at a moments notice to use them, the smallest thing we can do is to not become like them. to stay true and speak true. i don’t feel i am doing enough for the world right now so the very least i can do is be honest with myself, and my readers.
when wendy was murdered on October 28, 2000, i knew in that moment that nothing would ever be the same again. but the scary thing is that things just as bad as being with wendy when she was murdered happened to me long before her tragic death. wendy’s murder forced me to face all of that and it is years later and i can still barely speak of those things. to anyone. if one where to measure my emotional states over the years since her death, it would look like a polygraph test when someone is lying: up and down squiggles all bunched up next to each other in an explosion of emotions. when i was at the UN with Grampa Tony and i had my mission, i evened out a bit more. when Sweat Lodge ceremonies were a regular part of my life i was quite stable. but it has been well over a year since i have had a Sweat or an Elder to help me feel grounded. i wonder if this is what they call Learning to Fly.
i watch the news and the destruction. president bush equally glibly blurting out that the war in iraq has nothing to do with September 11, when that was his main platform not so long ago. saddam hussein on trial for genocide and crimes against humanity when no one has been held accountable for the genocide of indigenous peoples. EVER in a court of law. and it continues. when will bush go on trial for the crimes against humanity in iraq? when his reign of terror is over, it will only be the innocent lives who have paid. maybe he is paving his path to Hell with his violence, but that doesn’t seem good enough for me.
and what am i to do about this? i am only one person. i cannot do enough for the world for all that i see wrong with it. i am not like kirsten, one of my heroes and a Goddess in human form, who can go to a war zone and be of help. i wish to God i could, but i can barely stand the memories in my own head. i have to accept that i was not made for war zones. what do i do with all of this pain? what is my role in all of this madness? do i even have one?
is life merely a circular quest for the Dark Tower? what if we lose sight of the Beams? the Beams are the quest for goodness. the Beams are God’s path that lead us to righteousness. the Beams are the Love that hold up the entire universe. what if the Beams are well and truly broken, and the Crimson King has won? i used to think i had a pretty strong compass for the Beams, even if i didn’t do the right thing, i always knew where the Path lay and how to get back to it. now i don’t even feel the slightest thrum. have i only lost my way or is this world beginning to draw to an end?
my glibness is a defense to hide the fact that i am well and truly lost in my own sadness and i can’t find my way out.