Saturday, August 29th, 2020
I do wonder sometimes if the raw BTUs of social media rage could be harnessed, would we finally have a source of clean energy that could surpass thousands of spinning windplants and acres of solar arrays.
The thing is, of course, is that anger, which by my amateur measurement has been building every week and every month throughout 2020, is not really “clean” by any spiritual or karmic measure. It’s full of dirt, and interleaved with duplicity, and egged on by the thousands of…let’s say entities, real and synthetic, who take the 280-character ball and run with it, expressing their agreement or contempt or…just expressing that they too are here on the planet and would like to have a moment to be heard.
So. Very. Angry. And then hurt. And then angry some more.
When actor Chadwick Boseman died—was it only yesterday?—I prepared my eyeballs for the reactions, the “takes”, the attempts to express emotion in original ways when the call for emotions has come so frequently this year that, well, what’s left in the tank?
Much of the memorialization was quite poetic and beautiful, but there was some that just communicated a certain “I’m numb, so cmd-c copy, cmd-v paste, I’m going to lie down for a while.” That’s OK too, of course, but when the copy-paste amplification attacks our neighbors, our fellow Americans who may or may not also be in pain, well, that’s energy I’d sure prefer to divert elsewhere.