Good riding;
HorseBack work, where I listened in awe and fascination to one of the most interesting
men I know; 2257 words of book.
The sun shone for a while, with all
the conviction of summer, and then the day reverted to a sulky, sullen state,
with the winter chill still in it, and the world looked brown and low. But I
got a lot done and had interesting talk and thought many thoughts.
And that was all, really. It was an
ordinary, good, productive day. It had no banner headline; it was mine and it
was fine.
Out in the world, there were bombs
and horrors. The news filtered through into my ordinary day, feeling distant
and unreal. In the social media, everyone had something to say about it. I don’t
know what to say when the horrors come. I feel that words, the words I love so
much and in which I have so much faith, falter and fail in the face of hatred
and nihilism. What can one say? I go doggedly on with my ordinary day, as if
good humans and good horses and these good hills and trees can anchor me to
another reality, a sane, kind reality, where people do not blow each other up
in the name of God.
Thank you. You put my feelings into words (and usually I am a wordy person; it's just the world these days is leaving me short). So, thank you.
ReplyDeleteIf there was a capital G God, I wonder what he/she would think about being turned into a scapegoat.
ReplyDeleteBy the bombers, not by you. (I re-read my comment and realized it sounded like I was aiming that at you, which I was not.)
ReplyDelete