Walking on Thin Ice

My impulse is to want to read the news, but then I hold back. I know how it’s coming down, how the world is. Reading the news brings this sharply into focus, right into my the television screen of my frontal cortex. I do not want news to be the focal point of my consciousness.
  This brings to mind the latest political movie we watched, The Hunting Party. In the movie, a young aspiring journalist tells an older, successful news photographer that the journalist’s job is to be dispassionate when reporting wars. O contraire. This is the entire question of the movie. The photographer’s buddy, a kind of gonzo journalist, lost his job because of his passion and the movie is about his redemption via the quest of a Serbian war criminal.
  I wonder if there are any journalists out there with passion, or if they get sorted out before they make corporate news.
  So, I don’t want to focus on the news, but I don’t want to be dispassionate about the world. Traveling and having a good marriage makes me more enthusiastic about my stake in my fate. I’m starting to realize how very little power I’ve had all my life versus how empowered I am now. I have the ability to move anywhere in the world, at least for a little while. I have the ability to patronize myself in whatever endeavor I want. This stake intersects with politics because I want to be fully free. I do not want to be bound by political borders. I also want everyone else to be able to experience this freedom…

I find my tongue thick when I talk to people. I feel every word as it’s formed. When I try to speak my mind to people other than Smith, I hear myself as though there’s an echo in the room. I hear my precocity. I hear my doubt of people my age, of people any age. Having conversations requires a faith in the ability of conversation to fix things, to improve the world.
  I don’t know what to do other than to have a kind of reasoned faith in myself and what I want to express. I usually feel like Wile E Coyote running over cliffs with my conversational constructs. Anything that could be said is irrelevant in the context of our creation and life in the face of the world’s total environmental destruction. Everything is said with consciousness of its existence in the shadow of terrible fact.

Lady