Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Happy New Year
Nature takes no notice of the New Year; this is purely a social creation. I'm not much of a believer in New Year's resolutions; I don't see what makes them stick better than resolutions made at any other time of year. New month's resolutions, or birthday resolutions, or anniversary resolutions, or any other memorable holiday would work just as well.
I've been wished, and assured, by a friend that this year will be better than last. I hope so, but I have my doubts about it.
If I could have had one thing for Christmas, it would have been for peace and goodwill among my family. But that's never been a realistic hope, and I found that it wasn't in my power to give, either.
My parents used to tell me what a rotten, good-for-nothing lazy shirk I was, and offered up such bitter, acid, venomous, mocking sarcasm that I still have trouble sharing my more sensitive feelings. And they still drop sharp and pointed words into conversations, and wonder why I seldom visit, or call, or write. My brothers and in-laws (some of them) echo same, and don't send or return e-mails, and wonder why I keep my distance.
I don't have money, or things money buys, even sufficient for my own needs. But that gets no sympathy. If I'm poor, or lonely, or miserable, I most likely deserve it. Or so I've heard, time and time again. And if I imagine that I have other things to offer...well, if money isn't the only thing in life, it's a darn sight better than whatever comes next. I called that a lie, once, and nearly got thrown out for it.
Not that the rest of the world is a whole lot better. In private and in public, behind the back and at a safe distance, in the press and on the internet, we criticize and condemn one another, without kindness and without mercy. It makes me weary and sick. But if it isn't a physical sickness...does it count?
But still I keep moving. If life is a journey, I'm not done with mine yet. And so, I'll keep commenting this year...From the Ground.
I've been wished, and assured, by a friend that this year will be better than last. I hope so, but I have my doubts about it.
If I could have had one thing for Christmas, it would have been for peace and goodwill among my family. But that's never been a realistic hope, and I found that it wasn't in my power to give, either.
My parents used to tell me what a rotten, good-for-nothing lazy shirk I was, and offered up such bitter, acid, venomous, mocking sarcasm that I still have trouble sharing my more sensitive feelings. And they still drop sharp and pointed words into conversations, and wonder why I seldom visit, or call, or write. My brothers and in-laws (some of them) echo same, and don't send or return e-mails, and wonder why I keep my distance.
I don't have money, or things money buys, even sufficient for my own needs. But that gets no sympathy. If I'm poor, or lonely, or miserable, I most likely deserve it. Or so I've heard, time and time again. And if I imagine that I have other things to offer...well, if money isn't the only thing in life, it's a darn sight better than whatever comes next. I called that a lie, once, and nearly got thrown out for it.
Not that the rest of the world is a whole lot better. In private and in public, behind the back and at a safe distance, in the press and on the internet, we criticize and condemn one another, without kindness and without mercy. It makes me weary and sick. But if it isn't a physical sickness...does it count?
But still I keep moving. If life is a journey, I'm not done with mine yet. And so, I'll keep commenting this year...From the Ground.
