The Iraq War is only the most telling example of this. For some strange reason, I cannot disassociate my own life from the misery being inflicted (in my name, by my government, with my taxes) upon millions of people on the far side of the planet.
Others around me have moved on. They make real estate deals. They go shopping. They plan to vote on other issues, closer to home, more pertinent to their own vaunted ambitions. I alone am disconsolate, perplexed, dismayed. Lost.
Or at least, that's how it sometimes feels.
Of course, I am not alone. There are many of us, scattered across Teh Borg. If you search, you will find us. If you listen carefully, you will hear our plaintive cries:
There are facts. Not just practical assumptions essential to daily life, but facts. They exist... There are truths about the nature of matter, or consciousness. There is a tree in the forest, even unwatched.We are drops of blood, seeping from the still-open wound. We are evidence of injury, but also testimony of life.
We will not be silenced.
