‘You are not stuck where you are unless you decide to be’ – Wayne W Dyer (US author)
Apparently people are leaving social media ‘in ‘in droves’. It’s understandable. The relentless back-and-forth, or rather, round-and-round, of so many featured topics are enough to drive the sanest person to a dribbling, quivering wreck. Follow a thread for a few interactions and you may be forgiven for thinking the entire world has not only lost the ability to engage in considered, reasoned debate but they have also thrown off all restraints to vent with the decorum of a crazed bull in the proverbial china shop. An onslaught of vitriol, which is no respecter of persons, continues to tumble incessantly across the cyber world taking everyone with it who isn’t super-glued to the ground. Brexit currently hogs the spotlight of course. My grandmother’s generation would say, “We’re all going to hell in a handcart”, and I must admit I have started to think that we could be forever trapped in the nine circles of Danté’s hell which this has become.
Other topics have been more or less eclipsed of late; it feels as though everyone is on high alert, poised to throw their hat in the ring, give their tuppence worth and bash their keyboard to death in their eagerness to express their many frustrations, and they are taking on all comers. I have been drawn down the same path multiple times, beginning to compose a stinging reply, a witty comeback, a clever riposte, or indulge in – what I consider to be – a crisp morsel of ironic banter. Thankfully, mostly, I have been jolted to my senses and realised relatively quickly that this is a path to nowhere helpful before I hit that all important ‘Enter’ or ‘Send’ button. There has seldom been a season when I have been more grateful for the ‘Delete’ button. What a friend it has been to me, saving me time and time again from embarrassment, self-indulgence, stupidity, error, myself and the ugly fallout of consequent sorrows.
Perhaps we could delete the last 33 months or so and simply start this thing all over again. This time I have some new rules. First, we deal only in facts rather than wishful thinking. Anyone caught peddling a lie would be disqualified immediately – “Go to jail. Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect anything, certainly not £200”. That includes manipulating statistics; any and all smoke-and-mirror antics designed to confuse the electorate; downright untruths; and absolutely any condescending, pitiful fictitious carrot-dangling which distracts from the real issues. I propose that no one on either side serving in Westminster be allowed to take part unless they understand firstly that that is why they are there: to serve. Secondly, they must have a clear plan for what should happen next. Golf leave would definitely be cancelled – possibly for ever. No resignations, throwing toys out of the cot or bombastic nonsense would be tolerated. The outcome would be used as information for the next chapter in our history with or without Europe in order to understand what the British people are really trying to say. Most of the time that seems to be, “Why won’t anyone listen to us?” They/we are still saying it and it doesn’t seem outrageously ridiculous to spend some time grappling with that before cobbling together some policies and trade deals, perhaps further afield with the Commonwealth, which don’t so closely resemble a dog’s breakfast. With apologies to all canine readers, of course.
Oh, for a magic delete button that we could use in other areas of life. I wish we could delete the tragic mosque shooting in New Zealand yesterday; the floods in Malawi; the terrible tensions over Kashmir; every horrendous mass shooting in America; the sex scandals of the Catholic church; the abduction of every child anywhere, ever; the Ethiopian famine that triggered Live Aid; the Holocaust; the Somme; the Rwandan genocide; every war, conflict, act of terrorism, bombing, hijacking and hostage taking ever…. How far back shall we go?
Truth to tell, I could use a delete button rather closer to home and more immediately. There are a few face-to-face conversations that I would like to delete from my life and a lot of unkind thoughts I would rather had never crossed the radar of my mind. Deleting them would be very freeing. I’m not one for regrets, but there’s a letter I wish I’d never sent; maybe I could delete that too. I’m fairly sure that deleting people as such would be unethical but I might identify a few relationships which weren’t particularly healthy from adolescence. I would have been wise to ditch them earlier so maybe a delete button could work there and save some heartache.
On a brighter note, Easter is on the horizon; chocolate eggs are a pleasant interruption from the ills of the world. It also reminds me that if I can look beyond the fluffy chicks and bunnies and focus instead, however briefly, on the grisly nails, sharp thorns and congealed blood of the Easter story, I can see Jesus, crucified and resurrected; the personification of the delete button. He promises to ‘make all things new’. That’s the button to press, for sure.
dancingthroughchaos 