Love at the end of an era
Cause it's love at the end of an era
Wait for the night, for the light at the end of an era
Wait for the night, the light at the end of an era
In this life we keep moving
Strumbellas, End of an Era
Like many I am deeply disheartened in this era of post-truth. The bloated angry face, the ridiculous orange combover, the hateful rhetoric, the spiteful tweets cause emotional distress. We feel visceral, physical pain. It hurts to the core to witness the dismantling of principled American values centuries in the making. America the Beautiful has become America the Wounded. We mourn the loss of decency and kindness. We are frightened for the future of our children. We are angry and we march, and we sing and we dance in defiance.
I desperately want to understand the mindset of Trump supporters some of whom are reading this very blog. I simply don't get it; how one can possibly support the hatred, the divisiveness, the mysongny perpetuated by President Trump? I want to understand, but I simply cannot.
The other day Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra Maestro, Alexander Mickelthwate introduced a sublime evening of choral music at Westminister United Church. He spoke eloquently of his frustration with the new world order, the era of post-truth, the era of Donald Trump. Ever the gentleman, Mickelthwate could not bring himself to say the word so instead he spelled it aloud...
I do not understand the s.h.i.t. that is happening in The United States.
He then disclosed a pang of guilt for hosting the gorgeous New Music Festival in such troubled times... a hint of frivolity in desperate times. He then rebounded passionately, angrily, and dismissed the guilt.
I paraphrases here...
No, this is exactly what we should be doing. Singing and welcoming cultures from around the world. Celebrating cultures joyfully and welcoming differences, and demolishing walls that separate us. Sing loud...
This was met with a thunderous ovation and set a glorious tone for the evening. A tone of love, and hope, and humanity. The choirs sang loudly, their voices rising to the frigid night sky. We were enveloped in a cozy blanket of truth and warmth. For the moment we surrendered to the beauty of choral voice in these troubled times, this era of post truth.
We need to move our feet when we pray. We must never stop believing in the spirt of humanity overcoming hatred. We need to walk for peace. We need to run for humanity. We need to march for truth. Together we will regain our moral compass and the likes of President Trump will, in time, fade from memory.
In this life we need to keep moving.
These are beliefs of a runner named Mike.
I believe in goodness.
I believe in truth.
I believe in kindness.
I believe love trumps hate.
I believe it's a good day to be alive.