Thursday, September 29, 2005
MG: i am...
here... and safe. i'm sorry for the inadvertent hiatus; i didn't mean to fall off the face of the blogosphere.
Anabel, thank you for what you wrote in the comments. thanks for reminding me the world can be kind--enough so i can come out of my shell to say what i've been thinking...
it's been hard for me to blog since Katrina. everything not having to do with the event seemed trivial, and everything to do with the event seemed overwhelming. the disaster itself was heartbreaking enough, but the aftermath was... cruel, needless, and helpless suffering. i despaired for the evacuees--and for humanity (or the lack thereof). i've been mulling over what it all means; these are the thoughts rattling in my head...
apathy kills and maims as efficiently as any weapon.
the carriers of culture are people--more so than any material matter, however lamentable their loss may be. who sang the songs? who cooked the foods? who gave life and colors and flavors to the streets?
every single evacuee is a life with all the rights and respects that entails. they had mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, and loves. they had places they called home and things they held dear. no matter how poverty-sticken they may have been, they each had dreams of their own. they could be you or me--when the next big earthquake arrives here, there will be no advance warning for anyone.
in this time, in this place, it's easy to purchase the groceries, turn on the faucet, settle into the comfort of our homes in an illusion of control. we live our daily lives each believing ourselves to be the force of our survival. to live the life i wish to lead, i depend on fellow humankind. i need someone to grow the food, truck the goods, stock the shelves, lay the pipes, string the powerlines. no one survives alone. when disaster falls and all is laid bare, our lives are in others' hands. it could be mercy--or not.
the public outpouring of funds and volunteers says a lot about us, as does the action of those we have chosen to lead. how did we get here? what do we idolize? there is much still to ask, to think about, to say--dire things. what's to prevent it from happening again?
i've been knitting--not much, but i'll be back soon to show you, i promise. hi Rose, i've been thinking a lot about my gallery page, but unfortunately not much doing. for you and the little circle up there, i will think hard enough to do something about it, soon.
Anabel, thank you for what you wrote in the comments. thanks for reminding me the world can be kind--enough so i can come out of my shell to say what i've been thinking...
it's been hard for me to blog since Katrina. everything not having to do with the event seemed trivial, and everything to do with the event seemed overwhelming. the disaster itself was heartbreaking enough, but the aftermath was... cruel, needless, and helpless suffering. i despaired for the evacuees--and for humanity (or the lack thereof). i've been mulling over what it all means; these are the thoughts rattling in my head...
apathy kills and maims as efficiently as any weapon.
the carriers of culture are people--more so than any material matter, however lamentable their loss may be. who sang the songs? who cooked the foods? who gave life and colors and flavors to the streets?
every single evacuee is a life with all the rights and respects that entails. they had mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, and loves. they had places they called home and things they held dear. no matter how poverty-sticken they may have been, they each had dreams of their own. they could be you or me--when the next big earthquake arrives here, there will be no advance warning for anyone.
in this time, in this place, it's easy to purchase the groceries, turn on the faucet, settle into the comfort of our homes in an illusion of control. we live our daily lives each believing ourselves to be the force of our survival. to live the life i wish to lead, i depend on fellow humankind. i need someone to grow the food, truck the goods, stock the shelves, lay the pipes, string the powerlines. no one survives alone. when disaster falls and all is laid bare, our lives are in others' hands. it could be mercy--or not.
the public outpouring of funds and volunteers says a lot about us, as does the action of those we have chosen to lead. how did we get here? what do we idolize? there is much still to ask, to think about, to say--dire things. what's to prevent it from happening again?
i've been knitting--not much, but i'll be back soon to show you, i promise. hi Rose, i've been thinking a lot about my gallery page, but unfortunately not much doing. for you and the little circle up there, i will think hard enough to do something about it, soon.
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beautiful post. thank you...take care
ReplyDeleteditto to what mrs pilkington said. we miss you, meow girl!
ReplyDeletehi Anabel, thanks again for being so kind and supportive. it's really nice to know words i sent out into the world moved someone.
ReplyDelete