I don't like to react to outside events that are upsetting.
That would completely defeat the purpose of being here in our own patch. Our tiny Kingdom of bounty. I'm here so I don't have to be there; dealing with all the muck. I know though that it's impossible for me not to feel something. I'm human ( Some times it's been to my regret ). I have the exact same way of responding to crisis, the fight or flight kick start; and I can get angry. I've always found that it's easier to get angry than remain neutral. It's hard to come down off that feeling too. Kind of like a weird elliptical pulley inside the head feeding the machine with fresh reasons dredged up from a reservoir of angst. It's hard to think when your anger is running the show. Control is ceded to a part of the mind that's very reptilian. What is expedient when in the throes of rage can be regrettable after the dust settles.
When atrocities and outrages are broadcast into my sanctuary the temptation to allow myself to be offended still rises in my consciousness. The bombardment of what's happening beyond the bubble we've made for ourselves here in the glorious isolation can overwhelm me. I see things on the net that affirm our decision to insulate ourselves, to withdraw as much as possible from interacting in real time with the growing populations.
I learned early in life, as a child of single digits, a simple truth - that where ever you go you take your head with you. The meaning should be clear. You can't run away from what you allow yourself to think.
This was the beginning of my form of Paganism. It was the parting of ways with the religion I'd pay lip service to in order to maintain peace with my guardians. It was the dawn of my understanding that life needn't be complex. Stripped down to it's roots the tree of life is a simple thing. We don't need much.
Shelter, food, clothing. Being loved, belonging, feeling useful.
The need to be entertained, to shock, to humiliate, to grasp and cloy, seduce and squander are all auxiliary. These fractures that remove who we could have been to what we become have seemingly endless justifications.
None of them ever make sense to me.
For a time I didn't turn on the radio unless it was a music station. Even at that I'd only listened to instrumentals. I never used the computer unless I had a specific question regarding agriculture, literature, or science. No television, no movies.
Another truth came in spite of this hermitage.
I can run but I can't hide, not forever. It's not going away just because I refuse to acknowledge it.
In fact the only way to deal with the wrongs of the world is to engage them.
I must accept what is happening in the world as real.
I must not try and filter it.
If I don't like it I will be affected by it.
I must never get mad - I must get busy.
I am the conduit towards what I know it should be.
If I get knocked down, I'll get up and take my position again.
I can not let the fear make me afraid to act. I'm not alone, nearly everyone feels it too.
If it looks like I'm going down for good, then I'm going down kicking and biting.
It's easy to remember that I have to live with the things I've done, but I also have to live with what I didn't do - what I let happen because it's not my problem.
Those memories are the hardest to have rattling around in my head.
Some things are the responsibility of everybody.