Making peace (when nothing else will do)

After a weekend of some honest reflection on my life, I'm wanting to take a slightly different turn with my life, from here on out, I think.



I've been too angry for too long with a world too stubborn and foolish to give up the unnecessary tragedy. A world of homo sapiens, especially, who bully and kill and oppress and hurt one another for no real useful purpose. A species that, too the contrary, creates most of its own tragedy. And gives ammunition to the excuses of all its friends and especially its enemies. All in the name of avoiding that same tragedy. Or so it says.



I'm tired of the theatrics and tired drama of the Hominidae. The liberal and the illiberal variations. Their politics and their money. Their violence and their power envy. Their popular and their higher culture. Or so they say. And all the rest of the world that all the rest of the world is focussed on.



I want to make a difference, is the truth. I want to contribute what might make the world a better place to live.

Some honest and loving understanding on all of it might offer something along those lines, I hope. Can't do worse than all the alternatives, I reckon.

I just appreciate this sort of contribution better, is the truth. Jack's quiet reflections on life. On a world consumed with itself, to be sure. A world consumed with one another. A world consumed and consumed with consuming.

And a life reflecting on life, with my own heart, with friends and family, with a wife and kids, with everyone we love, without the theatrics and tired drama we so often choose. In lieu of something more loving and understanding. A little life more full of love and understanding.



Be a damn shame, wouldn't it?

A world more loving and understanding. Lives more thoughtful and full of love. Respecting each others' limits and learning and consciences.

Be a goddamn shame, wouldn't it?



Not possible, say cynics. Because of cynics like us, say the same. Or at least those other cynics on the other side of this godforsaken garden.

Maybe not tomorrow, says yours truly. But maybe not impossible, either, says the same. If we stop making all the excuses, that is. For us. And our failures. And all the rest.

For my children's sakes. And for their children. And for their children. And all the rest.



For all the children that are bigger than us and our opinions. About ourselves and one another. Even if we won't be.



For my children, in the meantime. And for all the rest, while I'm at it.