Winter is here again

Many winters have come and gone since I started my Great Journey. Of some of them I was aware, and there are others that have melted away without leaving the slightest trace.

What I have noticed in recent years is that they're getting colder. Well, in the way I'm thinking all the seasons are starting to cool off. Oh sure, temperatures are increasing. Physically, climatologically we're experiencing a global warming, and its effects are being noticed the most in the developed regions of the world. We have the time and opportunity to devote to things like that.

But inside ... well, that's a whole different story. Inside, it's getting colder. Inside, we're getting colder.

This is also in my experience a developed-country thing. We in the West have got it good ... in some regards, too good, in others, there is plenty of room for improvement. But I've noticed a coldness descending upon our hearts. We're too ready to blame the victims for being victims. We're too quick to judge by appearances. We're ignorant of our collective history and when we find out how different it is from what we were told -- in school, at home, in church, wherever -- we distance ourselves and cry foul when we as individuals are asked to accept our responsibility from it. We're lightning fast at generalizing from our own anecdotal experience and so slow and recognizing, let alone, acknowledging the bigger picture.

The detachment from others that comes from individualization has many positive aspects. It is a good and necessary part of our development that we become our own persons, but we become less, not more, of a person when we allow that detachment to actually separate us from others. We can still smell, hear and see far beyond the boundaries of our own bodies and those oders or aromas, those wails or harmonies, those nightmarish images or inspiring visions still affect us ... if we let them. Most people know on the inside how they are affected, even if they don't often show it on the outside. To know more, to use our other senses, to taste or to feel, we'd have to get closer, but we don't ... for fear of becoming infected, I suppose.

And so we distance ourselves from our own world. We avoid being touched or touching. We stay aloof, unmoved, ensconced in our individual little fortresses that we foolishly think will protect us from what's "out there". And we become isolated, and lonely, and cold.

Many winters have come and gone since I started my Great Journey. And they're getting colder.