Tone and Tenor in Languaging
Darkness dwells in the hearts beating in the collective breasts of mankind. We are told this repeatedly. Our daily existence is rife with the staccato strikes of messages wholly formed of fear and hate. We must dig deep into our memories to glance a glimmer of hope, to drink deep a draught of joy, to belly laugh at a moments' whimsy.
Our discourse has coarsened. Where words of peace should bound and bounce over the face of our planet, we find our souls mired in whispers of 'us' and 'them'. Rather than working with our neighbors to bring life to the land, we squabble of silvers of dirt which lay fallow under our distracted watch. Instead of recognizing that wealth is a plenty that must be shared with others for it to grow, a small fraction of us horde wealth and are forcing the greatness of what humans have accomplished over the last three centuries onto the garbage heap.
On the other side of scale, I have the bubling laughter of my two year old daughter as my wife and her wrestle about on the bed this morn. Messages of hate and fear gain no purchase in the heart filled with the unfettered joy a child's laugh.
Does this mean that I have lost all concern for damning drumbeat of the fascist plutocrats in the White House or the individuals here whose continuing tales of woe and misery litter the landscape of our minds? No, of course not But I an suggest that each one of us seek that which brings us happiness and joy and share a smathering of it here. It does not take a lot to turn the tide against the recessivists . . . The darkness in men's hearts can not exist in the sunshine of hope, laughter and joy.
You know, I've long had this image of pockets of goodness in the universe. Places that get created by good deeds and kindness, good people and places where good people gather.
I think every good and happy moment, every tiny bit of beauty we cherish, every good deed adds to store of goodness in the universe.
In times when things are dark I remember those pockets of goodness. I comfort myself knowing that many, many good people exist in this world, unknown and unsung.
We all need to take those good and beautiful moments, treasure them, store them up, share them with others.
Thanks for your post. I'll share the beauty I saw today:
This place is becoming more and more of a refuge to me. I used to just spend my time at the Muck. And I still do some of that. But I need my solace here. And a chance to write longer things, which is a way of putting order and structure into the nonsense that's so hard to bear.
November 24, 2007 3:31 PM | Reply | Permalink
Humans create Muck (as do other life forms) and we build (as do other life forms). Our Muck is some other life form's (reporters?) food or building material, but you don't have to live in it. We're building community here.
November 24, 2007 5:57 PM | Reply | Permalink
I love that. Yes, we're choosing to build community. Rather than muck. (like at tpm Muckraker, I meant.)
Thanks for that wisdom, Tom
November 24, 2007 5:55 PM | Reply | Permalink