I can’t let this lie.
Two tragedies (out of the myriad people on our planet suffer regularly) stand out in my mind and grieve my heart:
Gaza and Malaysia Flight MH17.
Many others exist, but these two are the worst for me because they involve unimaginable grief and they fuel the fires of long-standing hatreds. An earthquake or flood can bring people together. These two drive people apart.
Both involve bad political decisions made in the 20th century and both are being used in the 21st century to fan the flames across these two centuries.
I cannot bear to watch coverage of these events because I am acutely aware of the way all mainstream media, including my once-preciously-impartial-and-fairly accurate CBC, are being used and/or intimidated to further the goals of the new set of global conflicts in which Our Side are always the good guys and Their Side are invariably wearing the feathered headdresses or black cowboy hats.
So I write what I consider to be the brutal, unvarnished “truth.” After five decades of travel (In September 1965 at 20 I began a two-year volunteer teaching assignment in the West Indies), observing world politics and studying alternative and mainstream news sources I can fool myself into fervently believing that I “get it” – not all of it, but the “broad strokes” at least.
The process of writing my “truth” is cathartic for me. I’m a mess after simply glancing at the present media circus.
Then I reconsider what effect my blunt, certain-to-be-misunderstood-by-many “truth-telling” will have on my ability to continue to do the other things I love that make a real differences to a limited number of very important people.
And I take the post down and pick up the guitar.