Monday, September 12, 2011

What to feel.

Crud.

I know I shouldn't have read any commentary about the anniversary. Because now I'm left not knowing what to feel, or if what I felt was somehow "wrong." (I have this problem a lot; believing my own opinions on something are wrong or second-guessing myself).

Some of the commentary took the tone of "if you're not still angry, you're doing it wrong."

I don't know. I'm not really angry any more. I'm more dismayed at what human beings can get up to in the name of religion (in this case...in other cases it might be politics or "equality" or whatever). I can't sustain a level of anger over time.

I also saw some commentary that doing anything...anything that attempts to be a "healing" or "loving" act is wrong...or at least, anything unrelated to what happened, is "wrong." The implication being that doing something like knitting for charity in memory or as a way of trying in a tiny way to fight back against hatred is worse than useless; that it's silly and misguided and perhaps even toxic.

I don't know. I can't join the military and go and fight...I would make a poor politician, so I won't run for office. All I can do, I think, is go about my daily life as I normally would.

One thing I will say, that made me think...yesterday in church the minister talked about how HE struggled with being pushed to "forgive" the attackers and thought that really, as humans, that is not something we can do (remember - he is from the East Coast...he knew people who died in the towers). And he commented that the fact that the attackers saw the people they were killing as less than human (which is probably necessary in ANY case where a person kills another person). He quoted something Putin said which I had not heard - that the attackers saw "us" (meaning, the whole of the Western world, in Putin's quotation) as "dust."

And the minister implied that maybe THAT was the "unforgivable sin" that is sometimes talked about. That being able to see other humans as "dust" and treat them as such.

(ETA, later: also, two important factors of forgiveness, I think: First, it has to be asked for, as part of true contrition for the wrong. Telling a person in an abusive relationship they need to "forgive" their abuser - especially if that abuser shows no signs of believing what they are doing is wrong - is not helpful and that's not what forgiveness is about. And secondly, I was always taught that forgiveness was more between the person who was directly wronged, and the person who wronged them - thus, by both of those points, it would not be helpful for me to, say, forgive the perpetrators of genocide in Angola....)

I don't know. I don't know where I'm going with this...I guess I just need to shut out all the loud conflicting voices about how I "should" feel or what I "should" do...but I do think that's one of the greatest human problems, and has probably led to the greatest evil being done to people over the years...being able to see the other person as an "it" rather than as a "you."

But still, it makes me sad that everywhere I turn I'm told something different, and some people tell me what I'm feeling or doing is wrong, and that it's because I'm stupid or ignorant or something. Whatever. I give up.

(I'm sure part of this is my allergies talking. They're really bad today and I can tell that I'm feeling really down because of them...as I've said before, one of my allergy symptoms is sort of a low-level "meh" feeling, like there's a gray fuzz over the whole world, and that I can't do anything right, and I definitely feel that way today)

2 comments:

Spike said...

You said:

I also saw some commentary that doing anything...anything that attempts to be a "healing" or "loving" act is wrong...or at least, anything unrelated to what happened, is "wrong." The implication being that doing something like knitting for charity in memory or as a way of trying in a tiny way to fight back against hatred is worse than useless; that it's silly and misguided and perhaps even toxic.

And I reply:

Wow. That's . . . wow.

How are we to cure a disease when we become what we are fighting? How can we answer hatred with more hatred and imagine that somehow things will improve?

If I am supposed to hate, then tell me, who should I hate? The terrorists in the planes? They died, too.

The religious leaders preching death to the Great Satan? It would be easy to hate them, but by themselves, they are no more than any other wild-eyed person frothing at the mouth.

Ah, so I should hate and destroy the people following the leaders. But they are people too, with loved ones and children who will see only that I killed thier beloved parent/sibling/elder/spouse
--and then come to seek revenge by killing me and those I love.

I don't have an answer; I don't belive there is an easy answer. I was saying earlier this week, in a different context, that I miss my teenage days, when everything was black and white. Before I got an education and all the facts messed that up.

Charlotte said...

For what it's worth, I think you should accept your feelings as valid. They are YOUR feelings. You don't have to accept how someone else feels and try to conform to their opinion. Your opinion and feelings have just as much worth as theirs.

I was almost afraid to read (don't have TV so can't watch) much about the various celebrations because I was afraid of once again being hit with the immense grief I felt on 9/11. I was in Perth, Australia. I turned on the TV to get the weather when I saw the plane fly into the tower. I was very upset by that and cried and cried. I was on a tour and my tour mates were very kind. When I made it to the breakfast room, one of the men came over and hugged me and whispered, "I'm so sorry." I just lost it at that point.

One thing I want to do is go by Art Hill this week. A local man started a movement that placed an American flag on the hill for each person who died in the collapse of the towers. I think that will be an affirming thing to see. The flags will be sold after this week. Not sure I'd want to buy one but each one has the name of a person who died on it.