That dread is the tell-tale sign that this work is profound and important for me. It activates some unrealized potentials in me.
“If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention,” I told myself.
This disruption is painful and scary. But it also affords us an opportunity – to look at ourselves and our society from a fresh perspective, to better reflect on what’s truly important to us, to reimagine our duty to one another.
Our story of outrage and despair at its core is the belief that we can only ever overcome our deep challenges by truly acknowledging and atoning for our deeply unwise, destructive, pathetic nature.
Outrage pulls us closer to our tribes. But it also disconnects us from and fosters contempt and disgust for other tribes, and even humanity as a whole.
“Social distancing” has felt a lot more cooperative, social, and close than the norm.
Maybe if we can just truly be with and listen to our melancholy, it actually becomes the pathway to the insight, purpose, and inspiration that feels lost.
We naturally gravitate toward outrage and despair. Consciously or unconsciously, we choose them as our guiding lights.
We, in the blink of an eye in historical time, have to cope with unprecedented, unrelenting bad news and challenges to our beliefs, worldviews, and identities.
If we could just go all the way back through history, better understand our origins, our genetics, and all the reasons why our cultures developed the way they did, even our darkest moments would make sense.