Yet here we are
This was my morning greeting. The full moon to my left and the sunrise to my right.
The ocean providing a very small window of nice waves and no wind.
I love watching the Albatros fly close, surfing the wave without touching water.
It is the most precious way to begin a day.
An antidote, even momentarily, to the horror my country is backing and some people are celebrating as brilliant and strategic. A nine-year-old girl’s face blown off is just an irrelevant side effect of monstrous acts by people who have lost all their moral compass, backed by Nations who have lost any semblance of courage against hegemony and cruelty.
I am conflicted when I write these daily posts. Do I write of geopolitics? Do I rant too much? Sometimes I do rant too much. I know it.
Yet to remain silent against the inhumanity is to be complicit. I write into the storm of emotions that fester, my individual ability to act against such violence and hypocrisy at such a massive scale, part of my frustration.
We have become completely desensitised to words like war crimes, genocide and terrorism. Many people are struggling to stay viable within their lives and the crushing system that rules all. To lift their heads from their own struggle is almost an effort too much to bear. I get that.
I wonder what words we might instead use to replace war crimes and terrorism?
Are there any words that will capture us enough to bring us onto the streets?
I sense we are collectively past that. Numbed out. Horror’ed out. Disintegtrated into a cocoon of not looking, not seeing, not hearing self-preservation.
It is all too much.
Until it comes for us and those we love.
History. Oh history. Again and again.
War is not the way. Superiority and might over, is not the way. Domination. Not the way. Leaving half the data and half the gender out, not the way.
Yet here we are.
Again.
For one brief moment, my mind travels with the Albatros. Surfing the currents that surf the waves.
Photo Taken September 20th 2024
