The Culture of Intollerance, One Tweet at a Time

I had a moment on my way home from work tonight, a revelation of sorts.  Was it clarity or simply a longing for something more--simplicity?  Civility?  Human kindness.  Yes, HUMAN kindness. 

I suppose there has always been unrest in the world.  Hatred and war, it's as timeless as Abel and Cain--brother murders brother.  I can only imagine how this would play out on the news today.  The news stations would show Mother Eve ugly crying, eyes puffy, near fainting and falling out.  Adam would stroke her hair and later, he would release a press statement begging that their family be given time to grieve privately.  The Twitterverse and Facebook would trend, hash tag RIP Abel or Abel had it coming!  Another would post something race-ridden on Facebook about their opinion on the curse of Cain and arguments would erupt in short, poorly formed spittle-sentence.  The unfriending would commence without even a request for clarification.  Don't disagree with me, after all, if you do, you must clearly be ignorant, racist, Republican, liberal, religious, atheist, a terrorist and heaven forbid -- intolerant!

As world events unfold, some in our own backyards, others in the world around, we as human beings have a drive to understand.  We insert the situation into our own frame, embellish it with our own experiences and try to make it fit within our own prescriptions.  We are myopic, so consumed with our tiny branch on a tree that we fail to see an entire forest of redwoods.  But we long for understanding and we need to feel connected.  Without much thought, we log on and we vomit our feelings into our phones, our tablets, our computers.  We respond to the vomit of others.  If we agree, we hit the like button and we feel like we have been validated.  If we disagree, we send a rant or we beg the person who posted their random stream of conscience to change their opinion to match our own. 

When our personal communication devices are lost, lose their charge or get immersed in the dog's water bowl, we panic.  We feel lost; it's our connection to the world!  And what a shallow world it has become.  How different would it be if we all put our phones down and sat down together for a meal, a soda, an old fashioned conversation, even a telephone conversation voice to voice!  What if I asked about you and really listened without judgement or malice.  What if I asked the one question that my four-year-old asks four hundred times a time, "Why?" and listened for the answer.  I might not change my opinion; I might not even agree, but maybe I would understand your pain a little deeper.  Maybe we would laugh, or even cry, and feel something deeply.

Maybe it's time to slow down, to unplug and to reconnect with those we love deeply, with those we once knew and those we want to know better.  Maybe I will get an old fashioned pen with a smooth point and write letters on flowered stationary.  Maybe I will put a stamp on an envelope and walk it to the corner mailbox and while I am walking, I will stop and look up at the sky and see if the clouds form dragons or butterflies.  Maybe I will walk with bare feet in the rain and teach my son to experience mud between his toes with joy and wonder.  Maybe then, I will remember what it was once like to be civil and kind and human. 




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