I’ve been thinking about the internet.
It opens the door to everything — social media to everyone. And in spite of it…because of it, we feel more isolated than ever.
I don’t know how to live within this box and live in the world, too. And it’s not just the emotional overload of close contact with a thousand personalities filtered through the distorted half-light of a screen; it’s the overwhelm of all their worries added to my own.
I can look outside and see the suffering of my community.
I can look online and see the suffering of yours.
And theirs, and the whole world’s.
I can grieve about the destruction and loss in Turkey and Syria, and mourn the dead in every day’s mass shooting, and worry about South Sudan and Ukraine and starving polar bears and zoonotic diseases and police violence and institutional racism and melting icebergs and all of that — all of it piled and groaning and blotting out light — all while watching the State of the Union.
All while acutely aware of each beat of my own aching heart and each problem in my own life.
Understand that I know caring is good. We should care. We should care about and ache for every broken heart and every victim of violence. We should rage and raise hell about the evil of the ruling class.
We should extend empathy to one another and offer strength where we can.
And understand that I don’t think myself in any way special or more sensitive. I see you, all, every day, carrying this weight. Hurting. Scared. Worn to the bone. Your arms are breaking, too. You’re suffering, too.
You’re human, too.
And the human mind — the human soul is not meant to be simultaneously aware of all ills. Not only because we simply cannot process it all, but because it renders us useless both to ourselves and to others.
We freeze in the headlights of global devastation.
We are paralyzed with sadness and brought to our knees by global worry and injustice and anger.
We can barely care for ourselves and protect the ones we love.
It’s always been there, the misery. But with this miraculous disastrous invention we can SEE it all. All the time. All day, we can walk down a hallway and open door after door to peek into entire worlds of want and suffering.
And we’re not supposed to see it all. Not at once. It breaks us down.
I could turn off this laptop, walk away from this screen, and never look back. If I never again stepped outside of my own community, I would still have work to do. There is so much to do to organize the people around us, and ease their pain, and make the world better just in the 10 square miles around your house.
I’m not sure that’s the answer, though. Because being aware and bearing witness matters. I just don’t know how much my witness counts when that’s all I can give.
Bearing witness is at once too much and not enough.
It is overwhelming nothingness.
Solidarity. Sometimes that is all we have to give.
You're such a good writer.
Beautifully written. Thank you for sharing, Robin.
Solidarity.