the dance of the ink riddled fingers

Sunday’s sorrowful sighs.

Posted in 52 pickup, thought spills by enisea on 24/07/2011

The media, for as long as I’ve noticed it, has become increasingly troubled.  I think the saddest thing is not the news itself (which is essentially the pits), but that in the same breath, a reporter can begin with the tragic news of a horrible scene and then immediately report a bizarre internet sensation.  There is no transition anymore, little pretending that there this tragedy will drain our sympathy supply before trickling off our news reports… just like every other natural disaster, just like every other other massacre that took the world by surprise.  We mourned for a week every time before we realised how much genuine care would cost us…

In a way, our media does well to shelter and justify us.  I speak right to the mirror and know that I am not consumed by the same grief as those affected, and sure enough, because I wouldn’t/couldn’t comprehend myself in whichever heart wrenching situation.  But a moment after reading these broken headlines and hearing the news we find ourselves watching some hollywood film or talking about fashion or complaining about what we can’t afford or what we want to buy.  I was tempted to not even write this, because the posts before and after this particular one are of trivial and comic nature, simply reiterating a cringeworthy reality.

These events make me wish I didn’t have a job to return to each week, so I could somehow avail myself to being just a little bit helpful.  We are hugely sheltered in our comfortably middle-class, first-world fortune.

The dark events of Norway have brought uncomfortable information.  I’m sadly perplexed that one person might have the capacity to end around 100 lives in such a short span of time, not to mention traumatise the entire nation – especially one reputable for it’s peacefulness.  Condolences to Norway for this recent event.  Condolences also to those in East Africa, dropping like flies in their severe famine(s); to those still struggling still to rebuild after every natural disaster spanning back to the coasts of Asia in 2004’s massive tsunami, to the recent New Zealand earthquakes and Australia’s floods and fires.

Sadly, I don’t think I have the capacity to care exceedingly about those people in these places for much longer, for I have cares of my own and I seem to have my hands full with my own life!  Ugh, it’s horrible isn’t it?  People are dying: left, right and centre, and I’m beginning to wonder about what to wear to a costume party, who I’m going with to a thursday night funk gig, the array of parties this coming Saturday night, and the guilty feeling of having much to do for teaching and studying!

Somebody, please, teach me how to care.  It doesn’t feel like I can do anything about the series of unfortunate events our poor planet is inflicted by.  All I can do is pray, and as much as I believe in the power of prayer, it feels like a minimal and almost negligible response. Mm… maybe one day, in a disaster closer to home, I’ll learn what it is to grieve, to care, to be apart of the restoration process and to be reminded of the really important elements of life… not that I would wish these hard circumstances upon myself… but I’m of the school of thought that living isn’t appreciated as much as until dying becomes an inevitable reality.  A little morbid, isn’t it?  You never know what you got til it’s gone, until you experience the contrary, the lack, the difficulty.

My condolences to those whose lives are not lived to the full.


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