Hamlet was right, you know...
To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to die, to sleep
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end
The Heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks
That Flesh is heir to?
From Hamlet, by William Shakespeare
I think it was sometimes in my 30's, when I first became aware of an imaginary set of quotidian scales. It is as if I have a sort of metaphysical vestibular system where one labyrinth enables the navigation of another.
In the beginning, before we've plumbed the depths of life's mazes, we see only the vestibule, the foyer of life's journey. Child's play, at least in my memory, was devoid of danger and comprised mostly of sunshine, Christmas memories, and birthday surprises.
But as life's journey began in earnest, there seemed to be less sunshine and more storm cloud. I am not sure when I first sensed the shifting of those scales - and whether held by a blind lady of justice or instead gripped by some perverted jester - I am unable to say even now.
But, my first clear memory was around the age of 10 or 11 - and the time I first began to suffer from night terrors. In those days, the creaking of the darkened house suggested dangers I could not see and fantastically imagined as horrific and humongous.
And as my young mind expanded to include the external world, I began to notice disruptions in the force that will haunt me till death hopefully silences them.
I remember in 4th grade, awaking to a silent house where mother still slept, and I needed to procure breakfast and clothe myself alone. Her slumber showed me the first of many caring voids that we all endure.
I wish I could say that mother love is a foundational memory, but I can only attest to its absence and the sadness of never having known it. I wish I could say there was a loving God that guided me through those dark days, but I only knew of an angry potentate that planned the ancient deluge, pushed Abraham to nearly sacrifice his offspring, and for some unknowable reason - send God's own beloved son to earth to live, suffer and die for a world of angry sins.
I wish I could agree with the New Testament writer, who in the book of James wrote that "love covers a multitude of sin". My experience has been that love is neither deep enough or strong enough to cover sin or sorrow.
And so we come to 2016. Let us review the year. We have police shootings run amok - where the only victims seem to be black and poor. We have mass shootings in San Bernardino and Orlando - where victims range from adult government servants to the young in love - who are just beginning to dance away the darkness.
We have a presidential election campaign that has lowered the level on many things - civility, thoughtfulness, and intelligence. It has reminded me that even though this world is full of beauty and kindness - the cloth of civilization is much less durable than I had hoped. It has shown itself to be threadbare and torn - and in danger of being rent asunder by a multitude of hatreds.
So why do I complain? I live in a beautiful home, in a lovely city where the fall colors are just beginning to emerge. I return every evening to a safe neighborhood, a warm meal, a loving wife, a well-stocked liquor cabinet, and finally a soft bed.
Why do I complain? I can only point to those previously referenced scales. I cannot escape the feeling that the scales are shifting. That the sheer magnitude of hatred and injustice is near the tipping point. I wonder if my small sanctuary is surrounded by a gathering force of Mordor-like evil that will engulf me in darkness.
I hope I am wrong. If I believed any longer in a loving god, I would fervently pray to him for salvation.
But devoid of any such faith, I merely reflect on the truth of my own life - and pray my scales shift no further towards despair.
dg
Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to die, to sleep
No more; and by a sleep, to say we end
The Heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks
That Flesh is heir to?
From Hamlet, by William Shakespeare
I think it was sometimes in my 30's, when I first became aware of an imaginary set of quotidian scales. It is as if I have a sort of metaphysical vestibular system where one labyrinth enables the navigation of another.
In the beginning, before we've plumbed the depths of life's mazes, we see only the vestibule, the foyer of life's journey. Child's play, at least in my memory, was devoid of danger and comprised mostly of sunshine, Christmas memories, and birthday surprises.
But as life's journey began in earnest, there seemed to be less sunshine and more storm cloud. I am not sure when I first sensed the shifting of those scales - and whether held by a blind lady of justice or instead gripped by some perverted jester - I am unable to say even now.
But, my first clear memory was around the age of 10 or 11 - and the time I first began to suffer from night terrors. In those days, the creaking of the darkened house suggested dangers I could not see and fantastically imagined as horrific and humongous.
And as my young mind expanded to include the external world, I began to notice disruptions in the force that will haunt me till death hopefully silences them.
I remember in 4th grade, awaking to a silent house where mother still slept, and I needed to procure breakfast and clothe myself alone. Her slumber showed me the first of many caring voids that we all endure.
I wish I could say that mother love is a foundational memory, but I can only attest to its absence and the sadness of never having known it. I wish I could say there was a loving God that guided me through those dark days, but I only knew of an angry potentate that planned the ancient deluge, pushed Abraham to nearly sacrifice his offspring, and for some unknowable reason - send God's own beloved son to earth to live, suffer and die for a world of angry sins.
I wish I could agree with the New Testament writer, who in the book of James wrote that "love covers a multitude of sin". My experience has been that love is neither deep enough or strong enough to cover sin or sorrow.
And so we come to 2016. Let us review the year. We have police shootings run amok - where the only victims seem to be black and poor. We have mass shootings in San Bernardino and Orlando - where victims range from adult government servants to the young in love - who are just beginning to dance away the darkness.
We have a presidential election campaign that has lowered the level on many things - civility, thoughtfulness, and intelligence. It has reminded me that even though this world is full of beauty and kindness - the cloth of civilization is much less durable than I had hoped. It has shown itself to be threadbare and torn - and in danger of being rent asunder by a multitude of hatreds.
So why do I complain? I live in a beautiful home, in a lovely city where the fall colors are just beginning to emerge. I return every evening to a safe neighborhood, a warm meal, a loving wife, a well-stocked liquor cabinet, and finally a soft bed.
Why do I complain? I can only point to those previously referenced scales. I cannot escape the feeling that the scales are shifting. That the sheer magnitude of hatred and injustice is near the tipping point. I wonder if my small sanctuary is surrounded by a gathering force of Mordor-like evil that will engulf me in darkness.
I hope I am wrong. If I believed any longer in a loving god, I would fervently pray to him for salvation.
But devoid of any such faith, I merely reflect on the truth of my own life - and pray my scales shift no further towards despair.
dg
Sent from my iPad
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