Sunday, July 31, 2011
Meditations For A Sunday
Unexpectedly, I found myself near tears toward the end, in sadness, I think, for the absence of such thoughtfulness in our national discourse; in longing for the quiet pleasure of observing intelligence at work, gentleness, comparing ideas such as these to those we hear daily, hourly, incessantly leaking like toxic waste from our political leaders and their enablers on talk radio, on propaganda television. Shouting, stupefying, destructive, mindless.
And it's not really about the message per se. It's about the sense of loss, the realization, by its absence, of the pleasure of hearing thoughtful people talk. About anything.
Drowned out are people like this, by the din of fear and destruction and needfulness and stupidity and hate and magical thinking as they overtake our country. Thence the tears. For the damage being done by choosing irrationality over reason at a time when we need it most.