Mud, and Where We Are

I am afraid.

It is that simple. I am afraid–I am afraid for the future, for the stable minded, and anyone else that may become caught in the crossfire.

Fatalism had always been a joke which reared it’s head when a person could not remove themselves from a painful situation; one that struck the arm quickly and disappeared like those dreadful afternoons where we would be removed from school, and driven, fearfully, to the Doctors, and a booster shot was administered. In those moments, those Keatsian, “Ode on a Grecian Urn,” moments, where all life is suspended, no one was more distraught; no would endured more pain, than you. But soon it vanished and life returned to the joyous simplicity it was. That had always been fatalism. But now, fatalism has become a reality, and a relief, telling us that this will not last forever.

In the wake of a tragedy, the national papers front pages look not unlike the snapshots from Woodstock ’94–the mud stained images that brought to a close the grunge movement, and ushered in a decade of visible opulence, of showcasing wealth rather than coming to understand what wealth truly meant. This was the start of the dot-com world. Well, these mud slung front pages of today do something of the same.

There is hate and violent rhetoric being passed around, from both sides of the political spectrum, showing only what the culprits desire to be seen. It isn’t wealth anymore, it is all about who is wrong; who did or did not do; and the violence and hate is growing rampant, so that now, after an assassination attempt on one of our political figures, the media and the politicians waste no time in placing blame, establishing with the mass that they were in fact, not involved. Is this the world we live in? Where our leaders, the voices that speak for us, as Americans, must clear their names before responding in a humanist sort of way. But, are we not humans first, before governors, senators, lawyers, judges, councilors?

Maybe not, and maybe it is me that is in the wrong. I guess fiery rhetoric is better than answers, and to admit fault once in a while demonstrates weakness, not strength of character.

A poor woman lays in a hospital bed, with a head wound, and we must accept that she is fortunate. You are lucky Mrs. Giffords, someone only tried to kill you because you failed to represent the Timothy McVeigh political party. I am not a communist, a socialist, nor am I particularly fond of the democrats or the republicans. I look for people who make decisions, and are not afraid to be wrong. Above all of the political placement, I want to hear what people say, and in turn want them to listen to me–and if we differ in opinion, that’s fine because, and this is key, their heart still beats and blood still flows through their veins making them, in my opinion, the same as me.

People want happiness in some facet or another, but what is being taught is that it must come at the expense of others. If Sarah Palin does not like something, Barack Obama must like it to appease his liberal base, and vice versa. This is not right. We, as a country, are on the brink of something monumental, and it is up to everyone to decide whether that is to be a good thing, or not. The way I see, and this is where fatalism returns, is that we are witnessing the inevitable collapse of a society. Of course it would not happen in our lifetime, but, this is how it begins…revolutions have begun under lesser circumstances.

I cross my fingers that I’m wrong, but the hate is growing, and the violence has started. After September 11, in the dust and smoke and death and carnage we grieved as one, and my generation, as one, learned to feel vulnerable for the first time. It was a dark spot in our country’s history, but we endured and found a way to make it this far. I hope ol’ Lady Liberty has got something else up her sleeve.