I witness despair, cynicism, brokenness masked by a millimeter thin layer of cheer. The more noise the less substance.
You know that tendency to idealize the memory of what is far away? Family members, an old job, a foreign country. Leaving and returning one has to be willing to accept all that has changed in the meantime, in oneself and within others.
What hits me like a gush of freezing air is the vulgar vocabulary. Swears in English it didn’t bother me as much a decade ago. I have become soft, or I simply lost my thick skin maybe. Vulgar language is worse than thick unbreathable smoke, because then I can hold my breath. But with words, that’s a different story. They linger. Bad distasteful jokes, f bombs every other word, gossip… We live in a broken world. And it would be foolish to believe that we can make ourselves comfortable on this side of heaven. We do our best to better ourselves and bring light to our surroundings …but that’s endless work, like cleaning or tidying the house when you have children. It’s the work of Sisyphus.
I am so not interested in engaging in bantering with cynical people. And yet we do not live in a vacuum. There was a time when I used to feel anxious, unprepared, ineloquent …as unfortunately I didn’t partake in any debate classes to sharpen my senses and my speedy comeback responses. But as I slow down and search my heart and search my belief, I realize it’s not about who speaks faster and louder and more persuasively. The essence will surface. Listening to the other without the fear that they will make you change your mind, nobody can change your mind by force, with negativity. People are pulled out of themselves with light, with Truth…
I wish my feet were even better planted into the Solid. I fumble, I wonder, I ponder. Letting go of myself is what gives me balance, grace, freedom … if anything.