It was four years ago today that I first posted on this blog with these lines:
Often, I think, too many words are spoken and too little said of any lasting meaning or value. As a result, when the shouting is over, not all that should be considered has been said. That is my premise for this blog.
Mine is not meant to be “the last word”, but if it prompts more thoughtful reflection I will deem the effort a success.
I read recently that if something won’t matter in five years, it may not deserve five minutes of worry now. I suspect there is an element of truth there, at least in the sense that we should think more deeply and with a more lasting perspective than Twitter often prompts. This blog, like my interests, will touch on a range of topics and I hope some will interest you. Much that relates to politics falls into the short-term concern category, and I plan to leave most of those discussions to others.
More of the truth was that I despaired of inflamed political rhetoric and the frightening results of the 2016 election. I wasn’t sure what one inconsequential person could do, but I felt the still, small voice of what was once deemed kind and thoughtful reason might offer perspective in the whirlwind that had finally overcome civility in politics.
I’ve posted about 100 times since then, often about moments in history and what they might say to the thoughtful today. As best as I can tell, few if any have found an appetite for these posts from a virtual voice crying in the wilderness, certainly not to those who seek wealth or vengeance through coopted Christianity or for the utter defeat of any who doubt the dogma of their political religions.
And yet I have persisted, not to be heard, so much as to speak and settle my mind with the thought that there is hope, that humanity can rise above hate and that someone should keep that fragile flame alive until enough realize we need it again.
When I began the vigil that is this blog, I feared the horsemen that might be released by those unprepared for the responsibilities of leadership and that they might use their power for personal gain, vengeance or to tear down institutions to promote their form of anarchy. My belief that our country was better than that was rarely validated.
The events of those four years proved vastly more destructive than I imagined in my deepest fears. The list is long, and cannot do justice to the whole of its horribles that include: families separated, children caged, open and even proud white suprematist acts, killings of blacks by those sworn to protect us all, disenfranchisement of voters, efforts to turn courts into political tools, and finally the inhumanity of fiddling on Twitter while hundreds of thousands died of a pandemic. The list is as long as it is disgusting.
It ended with an assault on the most fundamental of our institutions, the election of a President, an assault that culminated in the sitting President inciting a mob to disrupt Congress and deface the most sacred place in our secular democracy, the Capital itself. In another context and in trying to grasp the events of January 6, I wrote a few lines, which are stronger than I would like to feel.
And so I offer, in what kindness I can summon,
these few parting words of counsel:
Treason is unpardonable.
This is our country now,
and you would do well to leave
while you have the freedom to go.
And take with you all the false flags
you waved in our temple of democracy.
Only leave the one you desecrated
because we take back, and
will fly it anew from on high,
knowing it and this land
belong again to we who
will soon again laugh with joy,
hope and the promise that
truth will truly set us free.
Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon on this day in year 49, the decisive step in declaring his rule of Rome. I at least, pray we have sent the self-declared, but mad, monarch of our times packing as a lesson to those who would have torn down all we have worked and that so many have died for. Too much wrong has occurred, the consequences of which will far outlast the five year time I mentioned four years ago.
I hope now to go quietly back to my votive vigil and tend the candle of hope until the last words of vitriol have been exhausted, and we can begin again to make our world a better place for all.
