aloha from hell
I wish I had something clever or poetic to say.
I wish I had the perfect analogy for what it feels like to be alive right now. But I don’t know how to sugar coat how painful it is to witness so much suffering. And to know that the witnessing is a speck of dust compared to the agony of those most affected. It is excruciating to get more bad news from Gaza EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. After all this time.
To be honest, Palestine has altered my entire world view.
I’ve always been skeptical of the powers that be but at this point, any illusion of freedom or justice or democracy in the US has been squashed. We bear witness. We speak up. We protest. And instead of stopping the horrors, the police are sent to beat up peacefully protesting teenagers. Now it is apparent that much (if not most) of the suffering in the world is a direct result of the war mongering power hungry greed of the western world. Slave labor in Congo so we can drive our electric vehicles and use our iPhones that are sending us into deeper spirals of anxiety and depression.
Meanwhile, our drinking water is contaminated. Meanwhile more and more people are living in the streets. Meanwhile our food is giving us cancer. Meanwhile more and more people aren’t able to have babies. Meanwhile landfills overflow with fast fashion and plastic tubes full of this and that beauty cream. It’s so far beyond the disappointment of not being able to afford a home as easily as generations before.
Besides chronic illness that I can’t seem to diagnose in our disaster of a healthcare system, my life is personally very blessed. I experience so much privilege and support. But at a certain point, what is my personal contentment worth when the rest of the world is burning?
I guess all of this is to say, if you are also looking around at everyone basking in summer fun but you feel on many levels defeated, you are not alone.
I know it’s a downer. And trust me, I’m not against enjoying the sunshine. Our ability to experience joy, even on the darkest of days, is what makes us human. But god does it feel like the scales are out of balance right now. Holding both truths, the beauty and the pain grows more difficult, the more apparent and heightened the suffering becomes. The more anxiety that has to be soothed over this impossible way of life, the harder it is to be present and carefree.
And please don’t send any pity or concern my way. This isn’t really about me. It’s about the girl smoking crack in broad daylight down the street. It’s about the man sleeping in the alleyway behind my workplace. It’s about men in Gaza holding the bodies of their decapitated children. It’s about war criminals running our country. It’s about the hottest year on record. It’s about the silent genocides that have been going on long before October 7th 2023.
And it’s about acknowledging the truth so we can hopefully get that cathartic release that is so important in grief. Grieving the lives we thought we would have in the world we thought we lived in. Not so we can move on and get back to our silly little jobs and tv programs, but so we can start imagining what type of world we really want to live in.
I guess that’s the silver lining.
The more of us that are awakened to the truth, the more power we have as a collective to create change.
Perhaps we can let go of the superficial desires that were sold to us (now that we know for certain that the fairytale was built on the graves of the marginalized).
We have more reason than ever to connect with our neighbors and local communities (we’re all going to need each other as shit continues to hit the fan).
Rock bottoms are often the catalyst for profound growth. We know this is true for individuals, so why wouldn’t it be the same for the collective?
Even if the whole thing goes up in flames and humans cease to exist, Earth is resilient and will likely heal and support life again as it has in the past. (I’m not a scientist, don’t hold me to this, but it’s a nice thought.)
If everything is doomed, we have nothing to lose. We might as well carpe diem the shit out of this bitch. (By that I mean, act out are greatest desires for love and peace now, rather than waiting for a “better” future.)
It’s okay to not be okay, as they say. It’s a natural response to very real circumstances.
I see your pain. I hear your cries. I’m crying too and I love you.
We’re all in this together.
Thank you for writing this ♥️ I really resonated with feeling so lucky and blessed in my own life - and at the same time feeling utterly powerless, and afraid at what feels like an impending wave of hate that is powering all of this destruction.
I say “ we are all in this together “ for 20 years raising my kids. It’s the only way. Xo