Tuesday, January 1, 2013

killing the mom you love

Around the globe, wounded men, in their waning moments, cry out for their mothers.

No one faults them.

It is primal.

And yet it makes me wonder at male-centric societies: Where is the tipping point between that original, visceral love and a willingness to dispatch the object of such love.

In Pakistan, home to a sometimes fiercely-male psyche (mustaches and beards and other cultural marks of male-dom), six women and a male doctor were massacred in a bus on Tuesday.

And:
Last month gunmen killed nine health workers taking part in a national polio vaccination drive in a series of attacks. Most of the victims were young women earning about $2 a day.
What disconnect is this? The very women who might cherish and nourish and be the court of last resort for men with mustaches and swagger are slaughtered, presumably by other men. What numb-nuts mind made this shit up and yet declines to acknowledge or shoulder its disreputable attributes? How 'manly' is that? Is this rocket science? Does willful blindness flourish like facial hair?

Nor do I think women should be exempted from such questions.

Never mind Freud. What about common sense?

1 comment:

  1. common sense suggested that i drop by genkaku's blog and read his journal when i had no clue what i could do for my dad and mom and kins who were quietly supportive of me behind me.

    i imagine everybody in US drives a car (never mind about car ownership), the best I could do is to remind myself that genkaku's blog is like a nice little traffic lights of sorts that i can come to a halt while the world passes me by.

    Driving is a hazard as always. You gotta check the rear view mirror, signal well in advance, and also check the blind spots when turning at corners.. especially when the bullock carts that we drive (Gautama spoke of carts in his teachings instead of cars) there could be elderly passengers.. prolly why I never bought a real car even though I learned how to drive before

    :) I couldn't tell a girl I love her, I would tell my mother I love her yet it's difficult too, and I imagine it's hard for my dad to tell me that he loves me too, yet.. I wouldn't know how to handle 2004 - 2012 without your occasional anecdotes at times.. I love you Adam and perhaps the others might know I love 'em too

    Doesn't bother me that Gautama became a Buddha or Ksitigarbha won't become one until He cleanses the hells, I am in a first world country and I am suffering from first world dukkha and yet it matters where it matters most - zen and a good koan.

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