Old Cold News

I’ve been told the world is kind of a mess lately. That maybe I should follow the news. A tragedy is about to happen.

I fail to see what’s different about this particular war that got everyone’s attention.

Were the other tragedies lesser because the flag on the weapons represented the good side?

Were the other tragedies lesser because the oppression was carried on a good ad campaign?

Were the other tragedies lesser because they were easier to ignore?

Were the other tragedies lesser or is this one just bigger because of bigger guns?

You’d probably tell me ” Well, you’d know if you watched the news!”

I’ll tell you why I won’t watch the news.

I cannot tolerate a blank face and a neutral tone describing atrocities over images of death and despair in between commercial breaks. I cannot stand hearing horror stories of children being orphaned, women being widowed, men losing hope, all told in a professional voice, followed by explanations that don’t justify the pain.

I cannot sit and watch my blood run cold then hot then freeze in my veins because the pain is too much. Than as I loose all sensibility to the story told a million times, the victims become faceless and the oppressors aren’t but concepts and ideas firing at each other. And we stop speaking of the people caught in the crossfire.

I am Arab.

I watched as the Arab world have it’s rude awakening, after a long hibernation. Everyone celebrated the coming of spring, that soon turned to fall then winter again. I watched and my heart broke as the world cared than stopped caring as the tragedy took too long.

The news segments got shorter and shorter. The voice narration turned from serious to casual to nonchalant. The stories became shallow then non existant.

It’s human nature, we love stories, and we prefer the new ones. And we do not have the ability to handle every important story.

Do not volunteer to take someone’s pain, because you can’t. We aren’t designed to hold pain. We are made to hold each other.

Hold a hand when you can. And when there is no hand in sight hold your own.

Keep it warm.

For when times get rough as they always do, your blood isn’t frozen, and you can actually reach in or reach out and find a warm hand around.

As I try to grasp both the importance and the smallness of my sad story. Sitting in comfort, away from threat, death still comes by and takes a loved one. And I marvel at the universal aspect of pain, I allow my self to sink in it, feeling extremely grateful for every warm hand that reached in. Including my own.

When the world grows cold, it becomes even more important for those out of harms way to keep their hands warm and hearts open for the ones going through the storm.

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