Monday, December 01, 2025

Isn't It a Pity?


Many years ago, I gathered seaglass from beaches around the Bay Area and educated myself about the best tides for finding it.

One section of Ocean Beach just south of San Francisco yielded a steady harvest of the blue, green, brown and white pieces, and there was another nice spot on one edge of Angel Island.

What I liked about seaglass was how it had been smoothed and polished by the waves, sand, sun and transformed into something nice from what had once been considered trash.

When you think about it, that is the way of all garbage, in fact of all life. From a biological perspective, the sum total of all of our ancestors and all other organic life forms is a few inches of compacted topsoil clinging to the surface of the planet. 

That planet is hurtling its way through space, and we’re all going with it on the same flight.

As much as we try to see ourselves as distinct individuals, we know we also are part of a much larger unit. And with time, most of our own sharp edges will get smoothed over by just like pieces of glass.

But for now, bad political winds have shattered us into jagged shards of glass, all too good at cutting each other rather than coming together. We’ve broken into tribes of one; even families have shattered. We are like a thousand rough pieces more than any kind of perceivable whole.

Acts of random cruelty outnumber the ever-present acts of kindness. Masked men in unmarked cars pull out their guns and terrorize our fellow Americans, declaring them “illegal.” Extremes dominate. Hate is on the loose. Isolation rules. Collectivity is disparaged. 

As a result, there can be no “us” at this moment in America.

Isn’t that a pity?

(An earlier version of this one appeared a year ago.)

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