World at War
I am not talking about the fact that Iran flawlessly executed a drone attack on a major Saudi oil hub. I am not talking about President Trump simultaneously saying that he is anti-war and saying he is locked and loaded against Iran. I am not talking about Kim Jung Un rubbing his hands in glee even though he has never been to either Iran or Saudi Arabia, whispering to his robotic commanders to prepare for the mother of all attacks just as the U.S. gets distracted on the other side of the globe. I am not even talking about the Crimea with its strangely fatalistic reality of always being in history’s harm’s way. I am talking about sending nuclear weaponry across the boundaries of a family.
We are all inescapably prone to self-destruction it seems. There is no pleasure as great as the pleasure of being with one’s family. The bosom of the world is the embrace of family. This year we spent a small fortune to travel in style to see New Zealand and Australia, arguably one of the finest spots on the earth to enjoy. It was just me and Kim and it sucked. Don’t get me wrong, we thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company and we met a few interesting people. We even spent one day, our best day, visiting with friends who have a home in New Zealand. We saw things we wanted too see. We experienced a bit of both countries. We were relaxed and at ease. And still it sucked compared to staying at home for two weeks and getting to have one dinner with family. By comparison, we spent two weeks in Ireland on the Ring of Kerry. It was summer and yet it never got over 68 degrees. It was pleasant, but the house we rented was nowhere as nice as the homes we have to enjoy whenever we want. The roads were treacherously windy and the hassles of marshalling the large group of people who had to be shuttled back and forth three hours to Shannon Airport could have been off-putting. But we came back raving about what a wonderful trip we had with the thirty-four friends and family we invited to join us during the two weeks. What does that tell us? It should tell us that we are doomed to scramble up our lives for the sake of family and friends and suffer the risks of oblivion.
Why oblivion? Because no matter what we do, when we gather family and friends, we invariable open ourselves to the odd comment of the unexpected slight that sends everything into a cocked hat. We are only one bad sentiment, intentional or inadvertent, away from a holocaust that lays waste to everyone within three branches of the family tree. People who are rugged and strong to the outside world are unguarded and soft-bellied towards their families and close friends. They have dropped their defenses within the confines of the castle walls, and that is where the problems begin.
People are a flawed species. All the cerebral development of evolution that supposedly gives humans the superiority to prevail against all other species cannot protect themselves against themselves. We are so damaged by all the shields we have erected for defending ourselves against the world, that we are left incredibly weak to the slightest scratch from a family member or close friend. Look to the example to the insular community that builds its walls the highest. It is that community that ultimately falls prey to the inbreeding that it cannot genetically avoid. We desperately need the warmth and embrace of family and therein lies the seeds of our demise. That need breeds a weakness that subjects us to the inevitable harm that awaits us when the inevitable happens. It can be a simple sideways glance, or a seemingly harmless tap and it opens a wound of un-mendable proportions.
I recently stumbled into such a situation. I wish I could say that it was a meaningful issue of a worthy battle, but the truth is that it was pure and utter nonsense. That is the thing we must always remember about family dynamics, it is never about the big stuff. We rally around one other over the big stuff. It is the small stuff that trips us and breaks our bodies open to the ravages of inbred thinking and sentimentality. The wounds of youth are on full display within families, but the means to recognize and avoid those wounds seems tragically absent.
Here’s the mistake we all make. We think we can live our lives just fine without any family member who has somehow offended us, and we perhaps can. But then we forget that families are webs of interconnectivity. We are, euphemistically, only as strong as our weakest link. We are not trying to survive, we are trying top thrive. Surviving is depressing. Thriving is invigorating. As we age, we need to thrive or die. Survival is not really an option since it leads to lingering and stagnating resentment, depression and decay.
I am flummoxed. I have tried blanket apology but have been told that I use apology to whitewash bad behavior. I have promised better behavior, without regard to arguing righteousness, but have been told that I am not worthy of being trusted. I have offered to take full responsibility for everything, all the ills of the world, but that just further infuriates. People who want to be mad are not appeased easily. What else can I do? My guess is that when someone wants to be angry, they cannot help themselves but to be angry. But here’s the thing, life moves on and people move on and patience and waiting for wounds to heal is not in the human nature. Wounded soldiers get left behind and the needs of the army will be served. The army marches on and does so without regard about what it is marching into. What it is marching into is oblivion and loneliness, and that is a shame.
I want to put my head back and cry with all my might into the heavens, but I find myself instead, hurtling into the abyss. What is the abyss. It is the place of insensitivity. It is the place where I just don’t care anymore. The unseen problem with easy apology and willingness to accept blame is that is vacates the soul. That can be good if the soul is bad, but if the soul is good, emptying itself leaves it a shell that is just empty and unfeeling. And thus, we are back to oblivion. Wow, what a difficult journey this life can be.