making sense of the senseless

My poor Christchurch, once again rocked by tragedy.  This time we cannot blame tectonic plates, Mother Nature, Rūaumoko.

This time a human evil has been perpetrated, and I am one of the many mothers who can barely find time for processing the heartbreak, because my primary role is to ensure my small ones get only an age-appropriate amount of exposure to the devastation.

So, mamas, I feel ya.

Mamas who have lost babies in this tragedy: I weep with you.  I cannot even …

The last time a weirdo sick person went apeshit with a gun (in a mass shooting kind of way) in this country, 14 people died.  It was 1990.  Not long after, one of my favourite singer/songwriters (I love you Don McGlashan) tried to make sense of insanity when he wrote this beautiful song: A Thing Well Made. He said that while he could not relate to the state of mind of the murderer, he could perhaps understand what it was to be a person who admired the design of a weapon.

I don’t think that even the poetry and wisdom of Mr McGlashan can create meaning from this one.  Adapted guns with hateful messages written on them have robbed people of their lives and destroyed the innocence of our home.

This morning I tried for normalcy as i delivered some content to second year students @ university.  Did I succeed?  I dunno.  I lived in the States when 9/11 happened, and at that time I turned to a whakatauki which translates as “turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you” …

choose joy.  As an act of resistance.

love wins, my friends.  A wise woman taught me that.