When my life fell apart I thought the hardest part would be facing the storms of relived trauma would never end.
They don’t end, but in time they lose their potency.
As time has gone on the hardest thing to face has been silence. Again and again as I’ve made tentative steps to reach out to people that I thought were part of my life I’ve been faced with silence.
It’s an extrapolation of the silence and inaction that’s been seen and studied in civil unrest. Not the minority of bullies and thugs that abuse the weak and exploit disorder, but the acquiescence of the majority who quietly go to their jobs and look the other way in the face of injustice.
Justice? The notion that fairness will dictate human affairs? I see few indicators that it ranks high as a priority in the dealings of men.
Selfishness? Not really. It’s prevalent, but what I see most clearly is avoidance, apathy. It’s easier to look away from a fellow member of the tribe in distress than to touch and see the wounded thing.
The only answer I have for silence is silence. To reach toward a place of meditation and allow the silence to flow over the truth of our apparent irrelevance to each other, my own irrelevance when my utility isn’t apparent.
In time I hope this alone place leads to peace.
I think that loneliness exists only when there are others present, otherwise it’s simply alone.