It has crossed my mind repeatedly how scary and wrong learning and thinking about politics can be. It can be a tax on your mind, body, and especially soul; good men die like dogs and criminals live to sit in their offices and drink martinis. The last thing you want to do is take a side because you know there is neither a guarantee nor seemingly much hope in things ever getting better.
I am writing this neither support this point of view nor defend it; but it is a view held by many and sometimes that in and of itself can be scary. If nobody cares, why should I care?
But if i don’t care, why should anybody?
There is no right answer; not to anything. In the end, sometimes the most you can do is be informed and at least try to understand. Sometimes when you think you have the right answers, you have to take a step back and realize how litle you actually know. It can be humbling experience.
As I sit here smoking this cigarette which is the most likely thing to cause my eventual death, I think of life and wonder where it will lead me. I don’t think pain, and I don’t think sadness.
Instead, I think of my past experiences with good friends I’ve lost and bad friends I’ve gained. For a moment, I wonder if I should even bother explaining what I am about to write but perception is always personal and there’s always room for soul.
My friend Chuck died when I was seventeen and he was eighteen. I’ve seen his family and friend suffer; I too have suffered and sometimes the pain takes me out of myself towards a middle eastern country. Sometimes it takes me to Boston. Often it takes me to New York City. Always it takes me somewhere I do not wish to go at the time. But I go–and for that I am proud.
I imagine suffering as I have experienced in the past. I multiply the infinite feeling of grief by the number of people who have died young and divide it by the number of people who have lived a long, terrible lives and I also come to the same calculation:
We are one. What happens in Afghanistan, happens to all of us. What matters to a young soldier in Fort Meade, Maryland matters to the entire conglomerate of life. What happens to me on a personal level matters to people who couldn’t even care less. We matter, because everything is connected. We may all have different points of view, but it should be understood that good things happen when people feel more connected, and bad things happen when things feel disconnected.
I’m not trying to preach to anybody; just trying to feel my way around. Because, in the end, all I really know is that I don’t know shit.