Bear
I'd give you a hug if I could wrap my arms around you!
Although it may seem like I'm minimizing or dismissing , I belive that we are taught how to choose. We are taught that difference is justification for hatred...we are taught that the poor and the less fortunate are legitimate targets for scorn and ridicule.... Because it is (and this isn't a negative criticism) easier to lash out than it is to pursue alternate courses of action, we are encouraged to find that primitivism deep within all of us and use it.
We need education and patience, tolerance and compassion until those efforts are exhausted then we pick up the sword.... Not the sword first!
When I got back from SE Asia I had nothing...and I mean absolutely nothing.... I managed to rent a sleezy one room apartment with cheap panneling on the walls that served to push all the depression and anger I was fighting even further into my psyche...
I decorated my walls with posters I could afford to purchase at a second hand store and one that I put up has stayed with me forever...
"We are not nor can we ever be what our fathers were..."
Unless we learn something different about ourselves and I'm not suggesting this is an easy thing...we are destined to repeat the cycles over and over again....
Which leads me to ask of myself..."What have you done?"
Which leads to an uneasy, sickening feeling that I have not contributed to the betterment, but the destruction of, peace.
I've always had something or somebody waiting for me. I haven't always seen it, known it was there, or accepted it as such. But it/they were there.
I feel for you, I truly truly do. Because I know that kind of empty, whether I forced it on myself or not, I know it and I know how empty it is. You speak of a poster, which I find remarkably funny and truly eerie. I to remember a poster from my forlorn days. A Soldier cradling the shell of his fallen brother, while looking skyward and the caption "Why?".
The duality is torturous. I find myself at rage with all I see and as scared as a child, waiting to be spanked for ill deeds.
I can feel within me the anger, the rage, the guilt, it swells and I can visualise it as a monster on the field of battle. It looks magnificent. The Warrior cry, the sweat, the blood, the mud, the energy. It is easier to be the Armoured soul, killing what it does not comprehend. Then it is to stop and seek that of which is just outside of the grasp of ones sum of parts.
I bow my head humbly in thanx and offer... Peace be upon you sir.
This is the ravaging conundrum we all face when we look with eyes wide open... it is indeed a challenge to find hope in solutions that the world doesn't seem ready to embrace in any kind of effective way.
Hope is the celebration of life - in this case of mankind itself. What's to hope for? What's left to celebrate?
I used to believe that the 'critical mass' required for the world to unify it's attentions and intentions towards hopeful, life sustaining, peaceful solutions was just around the corner.... I'm getting to the point where sticking my head in the sand is becoming preferable... :-(
Have you ever asked the Spirits for you to be happy? I've tried, for my happy is a world void of death. I have no other capabilities but to inflict damage. So when I pray to be happy, that is what I get. For it appears that I am only happy at the giving end of pain.