growing tired of the sorry state of the world. hoping for good.
There’s something strange about watching the world wait on a puff of smoke. Stranger still to feel hope rising with it.
I put a fiver down on the new Pope today. Probably bad Catholicism. But then again, isn’t believing you’re a bad Catholic kind of on brand? Maybe that’s the most Catholic thing of all-doubt, laced with devotion.
It’s a contradiction I find oddly compelling. I’m very into it, the conclave. I find it oddly exciting, almost cinematic. The ancient ritual, the secrecy, the silence. As I write this, the BBC zooms in on that tiny tin chimney, waiting for the signal. I watch and feel faithful, wishful that whoever they vote in will be progressive, gentle. Driven by compassion and the courage to change things. To seek harmony in a world addicted to division.
I can’t remember the last time I tuned into the news expecting good. The world feels harsher lately. You can feel it like the weather in your bones. A quiet grief.
I’ve had that conversation too many times-how awful everything has become. How tempting it is to turn off the noise, shut the curtains, let the world scream itself hoarse without you. But you can’t. Not really. That silence is complicity. The avoidance is ignorance.
Still, it’s tiresome. The pull of being present in the world is weighty. But then-maybe there’ll be a shift soon, where people realise that we’re all one in the same. Wholly human, underneath all the posturing and politics and belief systems. Let's be humane.
One can hope. One can pray for better days-I often do.
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