My Dad used to use that phrase. Sometimes he still says that to me, “you’re suffering paralysis of analysis”. I had a really funny post written for tonight, poking some fun at myself and fessing up a deep dark secret that only some Mom’s would understand. But then gunshots rang out again, and funny seemed inappropriate. There are so many words, blogs, opinions, fists pounding, open gaping wounds, tears, people falling to the ground, questions swirling and people trying desperately to understand and be heard.
And yet we remain paralyzed. Our quest to understand various points of view leaves us fractionated. We are more divided and separated than ever. We are lost.
The best quote I heard in the past 24 hours was this…”shooter doesn’t deserve our curiosity” Josh Groban. He doesn’t. And yet we are curious, digging deep into every website we can find, splashing his face and those sunken haunting eyes for everyone to see. We could stop doing that.
We are paralyzed by the analysis of these incidents. Dissecting the incident frame by frame is not going to stop the spread of infection. I have no words. No answers. I’m a simple writer, prone to over thinking and wandering.
I went for a drive in the country tonight. The sunset was hauntingly beautiful, yet subdued. I think I came home feeling what a lot of people feel. Paralyzed. At a complete loss for words. Everyone thinks they’re right. Opinions blasted all over the place claiming to have the last word. I’m certainly not claiming to have the last word.
All I know is this. We are broken.