Signs of a Struggle

The weekend is moving on and I'm starting to understand it better and marvel at all the feelings and parts that make it up.

It's varied and variegated and built like a living Rubic's cube with an expanding number of parts per side. But overall there's a balance in the number of the negative and positive pieces. The lead shifts constantly from despair to contentment.

My mind and sentiment are such fragile things pushed this way and that way by very little things that I hear or see or think. For me, I swing from living in the hopelessness to smiling and thinking it's all the way it's supposed to be. From thinking there's no hope for the future to hoping that my kids will be part of the effort to save themselves and others from the dangers we've created.

I take no comfort from the fact that others, smarter than myself, have cast their vote for ultimate survival. Inside, I am the prophet of doom crying out the warning to deaf ears and my ultimate fear is that I am right. There's no comfort in my thoughts.

But I also see what's around me and recognize the richness and strength and resilience that has brought us this far. I recognize the paradox that this ever-multiplying mass of self-destructive vermin that is the human race is precious in my eyes and that I spent most of my life trying to help them survive, one at a time And yet, we, as a group, are the only problem we have.

We, as a group, can only act as individuals. Getting all we can for ourselves. Every time we get into our cars, we drive another nail into the planet's heart. Every time we board a plane, we stuff a rag into our planet's throat. Every time we celebrate a birth, we cast another vote for failure. Every time we mourn a death we show our contempt for our own survival.

We are what's wrong.

Well, that turned out to be a pretty negative piece. But I guess I needed to say it.

More later,


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