Thoughts on Seething

The nation seethes. Left and Right. It does nothing for us except debase and run roughshod over compassion and common sense.

But not the Golden sprinting down the sand. Not the pelicans dive-bombing into the surf. Not the rebuilding man who rebuilt the fort in rain. Not the gulls that feast on crab. Certainly not the ocean. Oceans cannot seethe. Only bad poets depict oceans as angry.

Where does seething go inside a person? What does seething do when released?

I am trying to create and nourish organizations, words, forts and friendships that serve as an antidote or inoculation against seething. I am a one-human, largely silent, army engaged to combat seething. I just did it the other day, by giving away a copy of Siddhartha to a seething young man. I also included my writing prompts for the novel. If he responds, they may save him from the destruction of anger.

I find it impossible to imagine anyone seething while wearing corduroy or crochets garments. Seething is one of those rare words that sounds like what it is. I am reading a biography of one of the greatest Americans, Arthur Ashe. They should make movies and documentaries about his remarkable tennis life and pursuit of justice, his utter lack of anger when anger would have been the most natural response to racism and bigotry. He used the lob shot instead. I love that metaphor and have employed it many times the past two years.

Instead, we get movies and documentaries about John McEnore, a grotesque seether like no other in American sports. There is nothing to learn from John McEnroe for these times. There is everything to learn from Arthur Ashe.