Its been the summer of terrorism and now it seems we will have the fall of terrorism. And it seems that when a person tries to kill as many strangers as he or she possibly can in some horrific way, I have no words for my blog.
Sorry. Its become a pattern I’ve fallen into. We’ve had so many terrorist attacks that I have a pattern in the aftermath. That alone is heartbreaking. But I’ve noticed that this blog has a large European readership/commentor-ship and I’ve noticed that when things literally blow up over there (again with the heartbreaking familiarity) they go silent too.
I completely understand. There are no words.
Yesterday I had planned to write a humorous post about how I am in the middle of knitting a gift for a friend and she has recently come to me and asked me to knit her something. Something else. Because she doesn’t know that I’m already knitting something for her.
But then I came home and found that bombs were going off in Manhattan dumpsters and fake security guards were stabbing people in Minnesota. After reading that news, I couldn’t write. I just picked up my knitting.
Today I was going to write a post that advocated jailing all the self-appointed word police, or at the very least, ignoring them until they wither and die. You see I had read too much news the day before and had had quite enough of being told we shouldn’t ask for prayers for the victims, and how we can’t call man-made devices left in dumpsters that explode on command bombs until some authorized person tells us we can call them bombs. That post was not going to be very humorous, was probably going to be quite bitchy. I wasn’t 100% certain that I’d have allowed myself to hit the Publish button on that one but I planned to really going to enjoy writing it.
But of course I checked the news first and found that more devices had been located, this time by homeless men digging through the trash. Those men, those forgotten men, risked their lives to hand carry the devices over 1000 yards to get them away from people and buildings. Then they went to a police station to report what they had found.
Yeah. After reading that story of true selflessness, I didn’t much care about pipsqueak jerkoffs who try and dictate what we can and can’t say. I just picked up my knitting.
I have no words, not really. So I’ll just knit a while.
"There is no failure. Only feedback." - Robert Allen
44 Comments on "I have no words, not really"
Thank you for giving a safe place to sit, to knit/crochet/pat yarn, ignore the insanity, honor the selfless, and do the huge positive of creating, not destroying.
No, thank you. I do want to keep this little corner insanity free but some days it does not seem like enough and I guess I’m having one of those days.
I’ll take all the cheering up I can get.
Oh, Jen, you are so very correct in what you say. It is such a sad business.
It is. It makes me want to scream until I’m hoarse. Or go live in a cave. Or turn off the news forever. Knitting is probably a better choice though.
Violence and murder in any form are so out of the range of acceptable that it’s amazing that anyone still believes they are ok. Unfortunately, there are many who want to participate in that sort of activity. The best thing we can do is turn to our activity of choice that calms us so we don’t intensify the feelings of horror felt by the people around us. And if that happens to be knitting and petting the kitties, then at least we got something done.
You are right and that is very good advice. I have been knitting and I’m planning two days of intensive knitting therapy. I know it will make me feel better.
Just think what a boon to humanity it would be if more people allowed themselves a creative outlet that was inspired and inspiring!
It would change everything. Just the act of creating something, anything, changes you.
Yes , all this is sad and scary, I have relatives in NYC and in Africa both serving as missionaries . Seems that being nice isn’t in the cards these days, and I too shall knit away and turn the news off as I pray for peace and wisdom
God Bless the missionaries. Their courage is amazing to me.
I think that by “nice” you mean compassionate. I’ve spent the last 72 hours thinking about compassion and what it means when people don’t have any. maybe that is what we a living though: the rise of the compassion-less humans.