A friend posted a status on Facebook last night, declaring that she wasn’t watching the news coverage of the Sydney hostage situation and people were expressing to her that she was not a compassionate person.
I was sitting alone in my office, quietly ticking through the mess of racist posts and feeling my heart beat slow with dejection at each ignorant one. When I saw hers, my heart felt wrung out. I replied, ‘I’m not watching it either. Sometimes we care too much and we can’t bear to see the hate in the world presented by a blood hungry media.’ It didn’t mean we didn’t care. It meant we cared a lot.
When I woke up in the morning and saw the news of how it had ended, I cried. The trauma of those victims was the main cause. Anger was there too. Now I sit here, exhausted and mentally drained, listening to an increasing xenophobic attitude from those around me. I am mad. I am disappointed my the failure of the justice system. Am I mad at a religion? No. I am mad that there is so much hate in the world.
I guess you could say that I hate hate.
Why can’t we all be hanging out on the beach together?
I wish something as simple as surfing could save the world like it’s saved me…