Amidst the storm that is current civilization, days aren’t wanting in pontification or deficient in opinion. For a self proclaimed introvert with an ample social schedule there is little escape and solace is a rarity. As much as my mouth wishes to contribute both my opinion and my frustration, my brain battles fiercely the origin of both. Like all Americans, I am certain my point of view is both absolutely understood and undeniably accurate. In addition to our inherent rights such as the pursuit of happiness we were also born with a perspective guaranty. Matters of emotion, politics, religion and good hair are available for discussion but never debate. Truth, justice and good manners have no point to contend other than proper timing and skillful delivery. Right is right and wrong is everyone else.
Right is Right, Everyone Else is Wrong
The past two weeks have given the thinking types more than enough reason to head for the hills. The speaking types, unable to help themselves from speaking, are like gasoline to the fire of a thinking man. Absorbing as much information as possible, desperately trying to strain through mud and the muck for pearls of truth or even a clean oyster, is as exhausting is it is foolish. Pundits preach their wares while articulating exactly how the masses should feel while the masses struggle to decipher what matters from that which maims. Possibly there is no rhyme, no reason and no excuse other than a world with a malady that has too far gone unchecked. Society is a bit under the weather.
My beliefs are as strong as the river on which I grew up and often as murky. Carefully navigating my words so not too disavow my convictions yet not become disowned is a slippery slope of which I care not to slide. Without the bellowing battle cries, the bandwagon cheers and the Facebook scripture we are left with a simple, complete truth. We love, we hate and often we do so in unison. There is good. There is evil. Often there is no explanation or justification of either. The sun will rise with as much power as it will set. Colors are as bold as they are muted. As we pride ourselves in an era of progression we regress with abandon. When the smoke settles, the pundits find new issue, we are left with the debris of a hurricane of humanity. Each of us standing amid the destruction we create wondering how to rebuild.
Where there is love, there is also hope. My opinions abound yet my hope rises above. I choose to see good, to hear sincerity and to search for reason. I may not be able to solve the issue, explain the disconnect or cure what ails but I can choose not to fuel the fire. Sometimes even I know when to keep my mouth shut.
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