I was sitting here at my computer the other night basically reflecting on a busy day, my posting line-up for this next week, and my thoughts started to wander. Without a clear reason why, it seems the madness that is going on around the world had me thinking about life and I wanted to write something about it. What came to mind, maybe as an intro in characterization for my next book or whatever, was something serious in concern to the atrocities of life. Open-minded as I am, I didn’t realize how personal this was to me until I got down to the last part. I am sharing this because of some of the ugliness I quietly observed here lately in social media and news. This is what I wrote:
“Surviving the Atrocities of Life”
January 17, 2013
From the time we are born to the time that we die, we are all human beings, that at some point or another, will have been subjected to the atrocities of life. Through no real fault of our own, at least for some, there are moments throughout our existence that are scarred by the elements or the conditions that we live. Some more than others, so it may seem. Like it or not, it is as simple as that. But I wish it wasn’t.
Since the world of people began, by whatever means one chooses to believe; by God, nature, or evolution, people have always found one way or another to do good or harm to one another. In the long run, how we come to deal with it is basically up to each individual person. I truly believe that we all can overcome almost anything that life has to throw at us. I said almost because I also fully understand how some surely cannot. Good or Evil, we are who we are.
Blessed be the souls who manage to reach the end of their lives with their hearts and subconscious washed clean of the atrocities they may have done or been subject to, whatever they may be. I’m not sure what to say about those who go to their deaths clinging for dear life to the dark side of their existence because I don’t exactly know of anyone who has come back to tell their personal tales. If anyone did, I’m sure they would have one hell of a story to share.
As for me, I’ve tried to be good in my life, God help me, which is my given right to believe, but I’m not so sure what to expect of myself by the time my world comes to an end. What I do know is that at this junction of my being, despite the elements and conditions of right or wrong that I may have personally done or been subject to, I will continue to try to be good. And someday, when my life is truly over, I hope my heart and subconscious is clean and I pray the last words from my lips will be ‘Please, God. Save me.’ For now, the coin is still tossing in the air. I’m human. I’m flawed. And that’s only a part of my story…
How I ended up making this about me is beyond me. I don’t suppose I feel somewhat accountable for the things that other people do or what makes them do the things that they do. The only person I am responsible for is me and what I do. I cannot and will not say that I am faultless because that would be a lie. But I can say that I am not in any form a mean, cruel, selfish, rude, spiteful, or hateful person. That is not my way. No matter what I have done, who or what I am, my God-given conscience would not allow it. I guess what it came down to as to how this story reflected back on me is because it is so sad. I am so very sad to see human beings treat each other the way they do. It really breaks my heart. I don’t understand the reasoning. So many of us have been hurt, but there is no reason to continue to hurt back. That is all I can say…