I think each of us has our own superpower. A thing we do with uncommon skill. It often, I’ve discovered, takes a good while to find, or accept, or understand, or feel. It’s different in everyone, how it manifests, and when. Often, or just as often, we are tricked into believing that our superpower is the thing we are maybe most known for. However, over time I’ve come to discover it often lies hidden behind our greatest weakness.
Like in The Flash… the series. I just finished watching the whole thing, a few weeks ago.
You see, on the surface, one would be led to believe that it is his speed that is his superpower.
Sure, ok, it is. Yet… what makes him a hero is his hope.
Now lately, I’ve been fixated on the turmoil… geesh… that word just so feels inadequate. It is difficult anymore to actually find the right words to articulate this gulf of sorrow, anger, fear, and loathing, with a knot of worry that lately I find I carry within me.
Watching as Musk and his merry band of boys pillage for his revenge, hacking the U.S. government to its knees. Concocting nefarious conspiracies from thin air and sending them out to the ignorant masses, who nod agreeably, as he completes the groundwork towards the destruction of the very foundations of their country.
Trump waves his pudgy finger and proclaims he will make Gaza great again , seize Canada, buy Greenland, punish Panama, blame plane crashes on diversity, equity and inclusion, as ICE raids seek out Spanish and native tongues with black or brown skin. Striping rights, regardless of whether you are right, left, or centre; all to ensure white males gain all that they may desire.
These smarmy weak men, wield their cash as a weapon. Assured by their prey they are superior and deserve to rule, to be obeyed.
How do you fight all that?
… and all the pain, destruction, death, that I know now lies ahead.
Because these wealthy white boys do not care.
As I watched the left and centre blame each other, I just shook my head.
Yet… yet. I’ve been carrying with me for some time now, these feelings towards the land of my birth. Feelings of… well… hope. I know that underneath their sometimes aggressive greatness, their arrogance, inside the heart of the mythologies they tell each other, reside the seeds of strength that one gains from diversity, equity, and inclusion. While generations of wise women with the power of empathy and a soul nourished on hope, fostered a future they knew they may never see themselves.
Of a more perfect union, one their male founders desired for those United States. Envisioning a nation where liberty and justice would prevail, fostering unity among diverse backgrounds and beliefs, and ensuring that each citizen could contribute to the greater good, nurturing a society that embraces collaboration and understanding while paving the way for future generations to thrive in peace and prosperity.
They are lofty goals, aspiring to greatness, but not impossible considering that aggressive tenacity to go where no one has gone before… them.
It can be rather annoying to live upstairs to them. Just sayin’
Yet… still… there is always hope.
And I know I’m not the only one.
Anywho, all that and more is why I’m here again, writing here, posting here, forming a daily habit to just write something… here. I guess then it gives a purpose to the doomscrolling.
I just can’t sometimes look away. I have hope.
Funny, that, eh?
Anyway, these winter days, though shortening, still feel long. The wind is bitter, and the night dark and cold, but I have lots of time to think… careful to ensure I don’t slip and fall on the icy sidewalks on my way to catch my bus home after work. Lots of time to think.
(ok, maybe this wasn’t so much about Botox’d Stepford Poodles, but they sorta speak for themselves).
by PaulaB 