Here's my question: when did we become so frightened? When did we start assuming a cough is cancer, a sleepless night the indicator of some deeper imbalance, a crappy day as a harbinger of worse to come? Well, I guess the answer is obvious; the shift began with the pervasiveness of advertising and our willingness to swallow our daily dose of alarmist unhappiness pedaled by news outlets.
And why? Nothing's changed, really--the media has always paraded the darkest stories, the most heart-stopping headlines, the dreariest predictions--not necessarily that they're untrue (although who knows at this point...), but they're most certainly, if not sensationalized, then hand-picked for effect, hand-picked to sell more papers or, well, advertising.
And yes--these platforms have gotten bigger and louder, so much so that it's hard to avoid them. So much so that they've become dangerously normal--part of the background, digested into our conscious minds as a norm of daily life. That, my doves, is the cancer gnawing at the wholeness of our beings, at the intactness of our faith, our joy, our optimism.
What they say, true or not, is almost always sensationalized. Surely, SURELY, there is more good news out there than bad--bad news is huge and loud and tacky--easy to pick out of a crowd, but just one face among a vast sea of others. Good news is quieter and so very much a product of a moment--but my money says you have more of those moments than you even realize. You just don't talk about them.
Well. Let's start talking.