The world is bigger than America. The privilege that is associated with the thinking that what befalls America dictates the energy of the world. We want so much to be large when in reality we are small. To deal with the smallness and not make choices from the longing that comes with wanting to be big. Do we want desperately to matter in a human story that makes us feel tiny? I am not sure but I get that daily we move with certainty around the idea that the things we do matter. I am not sure they do. It seems that our existence is simply about passing time. The question is our we passing the time in a way that makes sense to us.
Tuesday, November 24, 2020
The macro vs the micro. The private vs the public. How the lines blur between our imagination and lived experience. The search for utopia seems integral to the dreaming spirit. The hope that at some point it will all feel ok. That there will seemingly be a point to a daily routine that seems structurally meaningless in hollow. This is not to say that they're not good things. No, there are always good things. It just that good things sometimes don't erase larger feelings of a existence devoid of meaning in a macro level sense. Will we come to our senses and challenge the way we construct our world?