When You Stop

At some point, there are things we stop doing.
As a child perhaps, you suddenly stopped biting your fingernails or wearing only wearing blue.
As a teenager, you might have suddenly stopped listening to the band you swore, once in a fit of loyalty, to follow until you die. Perhaps you stopped playing football or believing you are immortal.

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things (1 Corinthians 13:11)

We should all aspire to put away childish things (roller skate in your undies by all means, but don’t blame me if your neighbours are less understanding). As adults we are surrounded by remains of our past yet we do not dwell on them – or we shouldn’t. Unfortunately, our world allows for pretty much everything now. If you are 52 and want to dress as 2 year old, it isn’t called dementia, it is understood as a freedom of choice. When a 40 year old woman parades around in clothes she would normally forbid her daughter to wear it is called “body positivity” and not “mutton dressed as lamb.” Or “freedom of expression.” – let me see if I get this one right, as it was explained to me by a young lady who, at 19, is extremely up on modern wisdom – I can express an opinion and you can’t challenge me because that makes you an intolerant bigot. That perhaps my view point is wrong and should be open to debate is no longer tolerated because I have the freedom to say what I want. YOU on the other hand don’t – because you don’t agree with ME. I remember conversations like these, when I was 5 and they always ended in tears.
I remember a funny word called DEBATE.
It meant that 2 parties or more, with different view points met up and then presented their arguments and the other parties could then present counter arguments after everyone had had their say. Then the most convincing party would win. And a perfectly energetic debate might end in a friendly fist fight, but afterwards we could still agree to disagree. I might not like what you say, but if you can convince me you have a point and you are willing to listen why I think you don’t, we still might not like what either of us said but at least we had the opportunity to actually say it. I have friends I don’t agree with but I certainly don’t think of them as intolerant bigots. If I did, how could I call them my friends? And if I only every agreed with everyone for fear of hurting their feelings, then what is the point of having a conversation at all?
Thankfully we are not telepathic – our brains would either be continuously frying and freezing with this much indecisive decision making where we are in the constant stress of figuring out who we are insulting now and who has insulted us and do we even have the right to be insulted as that depends on which climatic region we happen to belong to and was it an insult and can I be insulted anyway?
I find something very unhealthy about human interaction nowadays. It leaves me stubbornly depressed. Everyone is so busy making an impression and at the same time trying to fit in. Collective individualism, anyone? A room full of wine sipping adults makes me want to put a lamp shade on my head and sing songs about little green goblins – it actually makes me want to bring back all the childish things I gave up.
I don’t have answers for anything, my dear reader. I used to believe, in my childish way, that the world was a good place generally, though some of the inhabitants were somewhat daft. Now I see that even though the world could be a good place, the inhabitants are actually vindictive and they shout too much – they scream about intolerance while practicing intolerance, cruelty and violence are applauded, while humbleness and genuine humility is greeted with jeers of laughter. Bigger, better, faster but ignore the consequences – and when anyone points out the dangers of irrational needs and wants, well it must be a conspiracy, I guess. We are quick to judge and slow to tolerate, we make up our minds before we have even had a thought.
The world is not a good place. I can’t fix it and I have stopped my childish thought of believing I could. We could all wake up to our barbarism before we do ourselves some serious damage but we won’t. We have spent too much time holding onto our childish things and now, we are stuck being 5 forever.

Photo by Robin Schreiner on Pexels.com
Children of the Moon 

Pay no attention to the writing on the wall
The words seem empty cause there's nothing there at all
We let the wise men beat the drums too soon
We were just children of the moon

No one to turn to
Nowhere to run to even if we could
Too late to save us but try to understand
The seas were empty there was hunger in the land

We let the blind man lead the way too long
Easy to see where we went wrong
Nothing to live for
Nothing to die for
We're lost in the middle of a hopeless world
Lost in the middle of a hopeless world

Children children of the moon watch the world go by
Children children of the moon are hiding from the sun and the sky
Children children of the moon watch it all go by
Children children of the moon are blinded by the light in their eyes

No one to turn to
Nowhere to run to even if we could
Follow the pilgrim to the temple of the dawn
The altar's empty and the sacrifice is gone
We let the madmen write the golden rules
We were no more than mortal fools

Nothing to live for
Nothing to die for
We're lost in the middle of a hopeless world
Lost in the middle of a hopeless world
Children children of the moon watch the world go by
Children children of the moon hiding from the sky
 - Alan Parson's Project 

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