It's a curious thing that I keep journals; fill books with personal thoughts that I never intend to share. I think part of me is afraid that people would find my thoughts inadequate or inconsequential, but what should it matter to me? What is life if the precious time I have is spent fretting over potential failure? So cuss it! I’m just going to be honest. My thoughts are random and may feign disarray, but they are mine to give to anyone who wants them. I may not change the world, but I can be a part of it, however small.
It’s strange how proud evil is while beauty is so coy. Evil boasts. It makes spectacle and feeds on attention. It’s splashed in our eyes like water from an over-chlorinated pool. It’s on the news; it’s in people’s minds. We buckle under the weight of its omnipresence and are so oppressed that we cannot see the good.
Good is humble, it hides in the crumpled shells of people we pay no attention to. It flows from the smallest things, like meals prepared in sympathy for a family that’s just faced loss. There is profound beauty in a green bean casserole at a potluck wake. Good exists. We need to remember that.
Ours is a society saturated by fear, evil’s old college roommate. They perpetuate each other, and those who claim to want to protect us shove fear down our throats. The government uses fear, so do churches, and businesses. Fear makes people compliant, submissive, vacant. It keeps us out of the way. What is there but failure if we continue to submit to fear? How can we heal the present if we’re so afraid of the future – and how can we heal ourselves if we’re so afraid of one another?
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