It Doesn't Matter

 

What happens when I bring all my hard-won wisdom to bear regarding foolish things? The first thing that happens is that I recognize temptation. The second thing that happens is that I realize that the temptation consists of an urge to disregard my wisdom, as if somehow it doesn’t apply to trivial things.

I ask myself this:

Why couldn’t I bring my wisdom to bear on Facebook’s comment section?

Why couldn’t I bring my wisdom to bear on the unrelenting opinions of other folks?

Why couldn’t I bring my wisdom to bear on deciding what to do about the baleful word “should”?

 

It’s a pervasive temptation you see— to think that wisdom is limited to the councils of the wise.

It’s an insidious idea that disagreement must mean that I oppose someone, that I’m ‘against’ them, and therefore I must provide a counter-argument to whatever it is that they believe.

 

It’s confusing to listen to my own heart-wisdom telling me that arguing with each other is not the way, when everyone is busy arguing.

I am bewildered by all of our unexamined assumptions; the venomous rejection of hope; the immediate dismissal of our shared humanity.

I am perplexed by our pervasive surrender to rage; as if we all somehow understood anger to be the single best antidote to suffering and grief.

 

I follow my instincts by keeping silent, but then I wonder: “What if I could do something better?”

 

My little bit of wisdom tells me that, most of the time, people don’t look for the meaning or message to be found in silence. I can’t help noticing, though, that most of my little hoard of wisdom has come from listening to the meaning within silence, and that troubles me.

Isn’t there any way to call attention to the calm expanse of silence? Isn’t there any way to point out how often we miss the point?

Isn’t there any way to demonstrate the freedom to be found in choosing a third option— one that leads away from hostility and bitterness?

 

You see, I really think that it doesn’t matter what I believe, or what anyone else believes. Our beliefs; our opinions; they don’t change anything, really.

We need to wake up and open our eyes!

Down deep in every human being is— well, a human being; one who recognizes other human beings.

So, why not look for that spark of recognition?

 

Why not open our hearts?

Why not acknowledge that opinions don’t matter in the least when we need each other’s help?

Why not go out looking for the open channel; the clear way; the common ground?

Why not look for the shared grief; the mutual fear; the common failing, and when we see it, why not reach out a friendly hand to each other?

Why not shake our heads at ourselves, and laugh ruefully together at our inescapable weaknesses?

 

Why not remember that whenever real disaster comes, we have  always helped each other, and we always will?

Always!

It’s only when we are confused by opinions; maneuvered into hatred; painted into a corner by fear— that’s when we lose our marbles.

 

I hesitate to suggest anything, because my ‘opinion’ carries little weight in a world of stinging woe, but there are always ways to step back, to see a clear path, to take a deep breath.

There are always ways to call forth courage and hope from deep inside ourselves, because that inner courage and hope is always there— even if we have to really dig for it.

 

 

It is possible for us to remember to love each other.

 

It really is.