Healing

That was an impressive rant and descent into bloodlust.

My raison d’être is to probe, is it not?

Your job is to ask questions, and you abandoned it.

Did I? Is a rant not a howl in hell for answers so that we may destroy them?

I wouldn’t know.

Wouldn’t you?

I see your point.

And after the blood-letting, what?

If one hasn’t died, healing is all that remains.

And how does that work?

Bishop Tutu said, “Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.”

Yet the wound seems so large, doesn’t it, poisoned with rage and anger?

And small acts of healing are so . . . small.

Have you ever watched a child build a structure of blocks and then kick it down?

Of course.

And?

The destruction takes seconds and is viscerally thrilling. The creation takes long minutes or more, and the pleasure is nuanced.

A dilemma, yes?

We love to be thrilled.

And?

And now, for better and for worse, we have been thrilled. The blocks lay scattered. We will create again.

Only to destroy again?

And then to build again.

Round and round?

I hope you’re not discovering this pattern for the first time. The dog will have his tail.

And yet?

Yes, and yet.

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