Let’s talk about how i went off on Twitter.


I have been on twitter for years, but only use it sporatically until recently. I’ve been following some interesting people, and they have been saying some interesting things. I’m not sure why I’m so late to the party, but it seems like a place where people are having real time conversations about things that matter. You can just shout out to someone you don’t know about an opinion you want to discuss. Sometimes they even shout back. I know, I sound like I’m 80 years old, but I am all caught up now.

So as you’ve probably guessed, i’m tweeting the way your grandma used to forward emails back in the day. Like, every goddamned thing she found interesting got sent and hogged up your precious dial-up connection. I’m doing the twitter equivalent of that, and I love it. Its fun arguing with people you dont know! When did I start being an internet troll?

Anyway, someone posted something that rattled my cage. He quoted the line from Fiddler on the roof. {quote}

For whatever reason, something in me wanted to talk about that. Something in me immediately focused on the ‘let them eat cake’ quality of including in our prayers our thankfulness that we weren’t the ones being persecuted. For whatever reason, I couldn’t let it go, and I immediately issued a snarky reply, which elicited a confused response. Two or three exchanges went by before I ‘realized’ I had just let myself be taken over by something bigger than myself; my pain. It refuses to be ignored, and it will take any opportunity to have a moment at the microphone.

At that point, things could have taken an ugly turn, but didn’t. When ‘triggered’, people often allow the least effective version of themselves to take control of the situation. Rarely does this allow the triggered person to react with caution or dignity. An understanding, curious person can easily diffuse the situation with good questions, clarifying information and kindness. We don’t have to agree, but it’s beautiful when someone respects your differences with reverence and curiosity instead of ego and anger.

I did what I’ve been doing in real life that people can’t seem to handle. I spoke up about something that seemed a shallow and callous attitude to suffering. This injustice had another layer to it, because the target of my anger was a man of god. I felt justified to call him out on something that wasn’t really an issue, because I have some similar issues that won’t go away, both with the subject matter and religion/church in general. Every time I confront these issues, they become less able to penetrate my peace.

If I can remember to be curious and understanding in my own approach toward others, I can see how much more effective my communication and experience of life will be.

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