The world can be such a sad, scary and fucked up place. A friend coined the particularly lovely term “Well, that’s a fuckery” and, as it turns out, that phrase can apply to so, so much. It’s unbelievable. Just turn on the news and become insta-terrified. Beheadings. Global warming. Kidnapped children. Jian Ghomeshi. Sometimes, it all just feels like a little too much. There is no respite from the seemingly endless, terrible, news-cycle nature of it all. To think about all that is a fuckery in the world is to become terrified, sad, filled with dread and, in some extreme cases, paralyzed.
And, possibly even scarier than the global terrors confronting us all (whether we admit they are there or not), are the daily terrors we each face individually. Not only do we have to try and come to terms with our place in a melting world of war, violence and all other manner of unimaginable horrors, we also have to come to accept our own little space in the middle of it all. A space filled with our own separate sadnesses.
The parents who let us down, the kids who don’t call, the bills that go unpaid, the illnesses and disabilities that limit and hinder us. Plus, there are the daily humiliations of our dysfunctional workplace, horrible boss, boring and unfulfilling work that does not honour our potential. Feelings of driftlessness and emptiness that follow us like looming shadows. And, yet, in the middle of all this: we persist. As Whitman says, “the powerful play goes on” and the question is why? Because, well, if it is in fact all a fuckery then why do we insist on persisting and how do we do it?
This may be one of those questions where we have to each individually live into our answers, or, maybe there is no really no answer other than one of choice. The choice some of us make to persist in the midst of ceaseless fuckery. But, why even make that choice? Who knows and, ultimately, it does not matter. At the end of the day though, it may be because even though it is all a fuckery it is a beautiful one. The world gives us the opportunity to perform in a powerful, powerful play and to try and remember that, in each moment, even in the midst of horror, there is Life. A beautiful, all consuming, fucked up, fuckery of a Life.
There are pink and orange streaked skies, branches of bare trees, perfectly individualized crystal snowflakes that create a clean white blanket of snow which duss the ground. People learning to love, children running after dogs oblivious to the terrors of the world and all the while, in the midst of all of this, music swells, science expands our universe, plays are performed, art is created and a beautiful, mysterious, unknowable, graceful consciousness moves through everything. The fuckery of it all is absolutely amazing.