How easy it is for the victim to become the perpetrator

It is a beautiful day. The cool of a mild Southern Hemisphere winter. Fresh out of the ocean. Wet hair, bare feet. Warm sun.

Bone-deep fatigue from weeks of focused work. A longing to puddle my body on the floor, in a warm spot in the sun. To disappear into waves of roaming mind and non-adherence to a schedule.

Not yet. Not yet.

My mind wandering the world, bumping into horrors and finding beauty even in the horrors. Brave people uniting across a divide to ensure aid is delivered to those in need.

Small acts of kindness that might go unnoticed in the larger scheme of things, yet matter to those on the receiving end.

A musician inspired by the horrific death of a young girl, producing a song that becomes a clarion call against atrocity, all proceeds going to support aid workers.

I notice again and again, in every domain, how easy it is for the victim to become the perpetrator. The hurt and despair transmuted into some strange right to hurt others. Against this warped alchemy, we must all guard ourselves. To take our hurt, anger and desire for vengeance and truly transform it into love, kindness, and shared food across a table. This is the only way to heal.

That warm spot of the floor that I desire to puddle into is calling. I know the privilege of that coming moment. To shut out the world, to be safe and warm, to wander nowhere in particular in my mind. This is available to me.

To many, it is not.

It is a beautiful day. I bow in gratitude to the bounty of my life, afforded me by my birthplace.

Photo Taken May 23rd 2024

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