There's a lot of pleasure to be had in feeling angry, but it is also destructive, especially when it cools and congeals into hatred. There's a poem by Robert Frost that I love and wish I had written:
Some say the world will end in fire
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
There's so much significance in those few lines.
And the reason I get angry is that I'm just so frustrated. The world doesn't make sense to me anymore. Granted, it could be partly me, but I think it's mostly the world. Once the 21st century seemed to be full of so much promise, but now it just feels like the 20th century repeating itself. Actually, it feels like, say, 1941-1992, stuck on a loop and playing over and over again. No, I take that back, it feels like those 51 years have been compressed into four, or more accurately, three, and they're all happening at once.
Is it any wonder I'm confused and frustrated and angry? Is it any wonder that the world doesn't make sense to me?
There's a book y'all should read, anyone who's reading this now. It's called Ishmael, and it's by a guy named Daniel Quinn. I don't feel like explaining it right now, but I evoke the part where they talk about building the flying machine--the bicycle with wings, I believe--that fails but the tester doesn't realize at first that he's falling. When you read that what I have to say now will become clearer: I CAN SEE US FALLING! I used to not notice it, but I see it now. We are falling faster and faster, and even being the optimist that I am (or was at some point, back when the world made sense), I think it may be too late to stop us falling. I think perhaps we've passed the point of no return and we are doomed to our fate and it's too late to save humanity from destroying itself. But not the earth. No, the earth was there long before, and so shall it be long afterwards, and time will heal her wounds and perhaps, in the fullness of time, a new race of humanity will grace the earth.
And perhaps the next time around humanity will get it right.
Ever the optimist.