The last year FLEW. I can still remember blogging last year about the anniversary of 9/11. It will be 10 years next year. Hard to believe.
Yesterday, I found myself feeling angry at a lot of things. Strangely, it’s not the terrorists that I feel the anger for – they’ve become something like phantoms in my mind.
I felt anger against the Florida pastor who’s had more than his share of attention for a Quran-burning stunt.
I felt anger against the Limbaughs and Becks of the world, who have found a magic formula of fear and suggestion that has hijacked so many people’s minds.
I was even angry at Jon Stewart, for being so incredibly cynical and pessimistic.
I was angry at the things I don’t like about my job. About how I’m not sure I will ever find someone nice and caring to share my life with. About how selfish and stupid people are (including myself), every day. About how many people make billions of dollars doing things that harm the earth, their employees and humanity. About how much more accepted it is to be mean than it is to be naive.
I was angry that thousands of people die in our cities everyday, but because they weren’t working in the towers that morning, no one is writing tributes to them.
I was angry that sometimes, it feels that no matter what I do, I can’t change anything for the better. And that it may be I’m fooling myself into thinking I am trying.
Today, I stumbled across a blog entry from someone who has far more of a right than I do to be angry and sad. She lived blocks from the World Trade Center. Here’s the entry.
And the anger drains away when I realize how many people ran back into the Towers to try to help. So many lives were saved by kindness and courage. Why does it take a massive tragedy for us to take care of each other? It shouldn’t. Why don’t we try to comfort the sick and the scared like that in our daily lives? Because it’s easier not to?
Something to ponder.