Persimmon of Leave
Sep. 27th, 2018 09:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoHard to know what to say about today. I spent hours watching the hearings. It was painful, but I felt as if I needed to witness for myself and not just hear about it. The storming and weeping put on by Kavanaugh would have been fatal to any woman who was testifying, but I guess if you're a male Republican, it's all right. OMG the drama. A couple of hours after I turned off the TV, I realized what had made me so uneasy about his performance. It looked a whole lot like what I've seen various addicts do. They weep, they rage. How dare anyone question their integrity! Your terrible insinuations are breaking their heart. Don't want to answer the questions? Turn on the drama. They are so, so very sorry for themselves, and they want to guilt-trip you into feeling sorry for them too. They can be very convincing, until you've been burned a few times, and then you don't buy it any more. I'm still glad I watched, because I got to see for myself how composed, how dignified, how truthful Dr. Ford appeared.
I'm just tired of it all. Philip K. Dick said that "Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away." Sadly, although I have stopped believing in this, it doesn't just leave. I went for a walk, although I didn't want to. No clouds today--just blue sky and a high haze. So I looked closer to the ground. The luminous green of leaves with the sun behind them is the color of kindness. Everything seemed to speak to me without words: branches stirring in the wind, the shadow of a flag on a wall, playing its patterns without nation or army. As I passed a line of silver maples, a sudden breeze made them rustle as if they were waving to me.
As Robinson Jeffers wrote in "The Excesses of God,"
There is the great humaneness at the heart of things,
The extravagant kindness, the fountain
Humanity can understand, and would flow likewise
If power and desire were perch-mates.
I'm just tired of it all. Philip K. Dick said that "Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away." Sadly, although I have stopped believing in this, it doesn't just leave. I went for a walk, although I didn't want to. No clouds today--just blue sky and a high haze. So I looked closer to the ground. The luminous green of leaves with the sun behind them is the color of kindness. Everything seemed to speak to me without words: branches stirring in the wind, the shadow of a flag on a wall, playing its patterns without nation or army. As I passed a line of silver maples, a sudden breeze made them rustle as if they were waving to me.
As Robinson Jeffers wrote in "The Excesses of God,"
There is the great humaneness at the heart of things,
The extravagant kindness, the fountain
Humanity can understand, and would flow likewise
If power and desire were perch-mates.
