Whispers on the Wind

It’s easy for people to succumb to the rolling accusations that seem to fall endlessly from the sky to promote doubt and uncertainty.  A strange and chill wind blows through the land making it hard to speak, drowning out all conversation, yet this foul emanation is felt most strongly whenever one dares to exercise reason or good conduct.

Like voices inside the head, the chorus predictably comes and screams more loudly against the gathered host.  “Racist, sexist, bigot, homophobe, xenophobe.”  As if possessed by a simple but malevolent intelligence, the wind combines the isms, ists, and phobes in ever newer and stranger forms to foment madness for the rational mind.  Doubt is the weapon at play, and amidst the twilight, it is easy to lose oneself to one and then to all.

An American Crusade is a battle of ideas, just as the American nation has ever been, and in this fight, our noble warriors are fighting to reclaim light, nature, and reason from the forces of dark, artifice, and deceit.  Some enemies are easy to ignore where their very insanity makes them only a harm to themselves, who should be quarantined, and we might pray for them to recover themselves.  But the more dangerous sort by far are those who believe one beautiful lie that paints all reality in a new color – for their madness is the one which has killed so many.

Such darkness has been known to pollute other lands from time to time.  A far-off place called Russia once had such an experience.  They listened to ideas of equality, to having the state require equalized outcomes, and destroying all distinctions between people.  In a way, they succeeded.  The Soviet Union murdered tens of millions of its own people in the numerous purges to enact socialism in one country, including using gulags, mass starvation, decimation, and other tactics all in service of a system – to answer a voice in the head that demanded something better than reality.

We on the quest might be a humble and motley lot, but we fight for the truth.  The truth often offends and nature is sometimes cruel, but only through honesty can we find redemption and the hope of our new home.  A better land means nothing without better selves, and the battles ahead might purify our souls and sanctify our land where we, for at least a time, will remember such folly as we will defeat and the hard fought wisdom we gain might better permit us to avoid such traps in the future.

Those happy days might be ahead if our will is strong and our hearts are true.  But they are cold comfort in the depth of the night when we are all called villains, abandoned by our faint-hearted friends who succumb to the madness, as well as those fickle sorts who choose neither hot nor cold and fade into the background.  As ever, the battle is against ourselves, and in faith and fidelity to each other, to the cause, and to our higher spirit we must trundle forward.  Sometimes, the biggest victory has to be reaching the next day.

The sun will come back.  We must make it until it does.