Don’t read this because it is too depressing

And here the earth is swathed in snow and ice and wet like a child born new to winter. And like a child it is innocent of all that happens with this new world when it opens its eyes to the skies. It sees things now it has not yet ever seen.

It is only just here now, this winter. And the winters seem to grow longer now even though they don’t really. It is no different. It just feels different, as if the shortened days were even shorter but the weeks longer. Not much makes sense anymore. A person learns that now. The rhyme and reason of bygone days are now static and chaotic and perceptibly incongruent. The stories we are told on screens make sense only for the moment but will fade into the cacophony of opinion as they all do.

We don’t know anything and the happiest of all are those who never sought to know in the first place. If happiness is what you are after.

The rest of us have grown silent. The snow outside drifting to the ground is louder than our thoughts now. We simply watch where once we had a world to say. We are the ones who have already lived what is to come because we saw a present and a future where others could or would not.

We have already lived the wars, the financial crises, the pandemics, the over-the-top responses to pandemics, the hunger, the suffering, the owning of nothing, the hypocrisy, the divisiveness, the cultural and moral degradation and global totalitarianism of it all. We understood the loss of freedom and what freedom actually meant. We lived these things and we did so while the rest of the world simply carried on. 

It will be a hard thing to come to terms with this. The fact that while we suffered the others labelled us and spurned us and ridiculed us and mostly ignored us. And although we tried most of us didn’t quite convince anybody.

And really, why should we have? So that they too could suffer as we did? In that sense, in giving up, we gave them grace to live another day without the pain we knew. But the pain will come. It is already showing its ugly head. 

And we will be silent when they are howling and we will take no pleasure in this. We would have prevented it if we could have. We tried.

Yet as they say, we’re all in the same storm but apparently in different boats. 

The storms we’re living, those who knew, are much more spiritual at this point. We look at the sweep of history, the cosmos, the meaning, the debacles of souls. We are orphans of stormy weather seeking solace in the rain. The rain, after all can be felt on our faces and is as real as real can be. It is not anything but that. It is not a wish for sunny weather nor a convincing of sunny weather nor a subject for debate and opinion and divisiveness. It is rain on the grass and snow in the fields. It is real. 

And that is all we have because we humans were orphaned without knowledge and abandoned without reason. We have no answers and we are surrounded by people who all believe they have the answers. And we have listened so long and so wide and so intently that we no longer hear them. They are static around our makeshift bubble where we contemplate what is not known. Foraging to find the unknowable.  

There are two things that humans need to come to terms with in this living and that would be that there is no fairness in this world and that we die. Those are the two things that would change us all if we could be content to let them be. We fight for fairness and fight death. And so we fight. How could we possibly accept either one and be content? We can’t. And so we carry on. As usual. As always. As ever. Until we don’t.

I have no video today. I’m cranky and miserable and pretty much like everybody else these days that way. Because the world is carrying on in the way that it is. So don’t listen to me. There are good things. Find them. Love them. Hold them. They will keep you warm in a storm. Peace. Here. Now.