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It’s hard to write a happy tale when you yourself feel deeply unhappy. The wellspring of hope that used to bubble up so freely within you seems a thing of the past. The people you loved have fallen by the wayside, and you find yourself feeling curiously alone.
You want to give, to love, to make people happy – to use the gifts you’ve been given in a way that’s worthy. To make a life for yourself and leave those around you a world better for your having been in it.
The world we live in is very different from the one we remember. Less personal, less… human, in a way. And some of us may not adapt very well to that.
Whether the world has to be this way, or if it’s even a natural consequence of progress, is one thing. Whether we have to be this way, or want to be this way, is another.
Life is short and fleeting, and people are precious. Not because of economics or money, but because they are human. Real, living, breathing, and capable of love, virtue, and kindness.
They each have the dignity of a soul and a life of their own. Each person is capable of great things, given half a chance. But the world these days so seldom believes in giving someone that chance anymore. People are sorted by machines and unforgiving, impersonal processes. And in the process, we become less than we are. And life gets a little colder, a little harder, and a little darker.
Maybe we could do something a little differently.
Discussion (8)
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The world has gotten both bigger and smaller. Until quite recently, most people could ignore the goings on of most of the world, because it was too far away to matter, too far away to ever intrude on their reality. Now, with faster communications and travel, and a more globally oriented world, we're forced to deal with situations, forced to care about places and events that we wouldn't even have heard of in the past. And the people from those places are likely to literally show up on our doorsteps.
It's impossible to pretend this is a pure, unadulterated good. But it's not all bad either. For example, most of the people who read and respond to this post would never have had any contact with each other otherwise, allowing for a whole new set of connections.
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Anything I think of to say here seems shallow and trite, but some have done better. Here's Victor Frankl, writing of his concentration camp experience in Man's Search for Meaning:
Reading the story of Job, who had everything taken from him and was never told why, reminds us that there are more things in heaven and on earth than we are aware of.
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A very perceptive post, sensitive in the best sense.
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A woman I once worked with told me (and I have seen this expressed in other places as well) that we don't tell each other how much we love and/or appreciate each other enough. It meant so much to me when we were enjoying each other's company for her to blurt out, I love you! And it would make me smile and I would return the sentiment. She was a rock for me, a confidant, an advisor. And I tried to be that for her as well.
It is not hard to be kind to the stranger - a smile, a sincere compliment, a little encouragement. We can all do that. Recognize a fellow human who needs a human touch just to keep going.
But we also need to remind those close to us that we love them and we care about what is happening to them. Let them know we are right there with them.
Love you, Ricochetti!
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This is not the type of piece typically elevated to the Main Feed, but perhaps it ought to be? Regardless, I think this ought to be seen by the widest possible Ricochet audience.
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