Indifference defined in 140 characters or less
Some days I want to slink back into bed and hole up there with a stack of books, sinking down deep into the cushiony splendor that are my sheets. The world would seem far away, its grunginess held at bay, while I enter a realm held entirely inside 400 pages. I would not arise from her, opting to let my cell phone slowly lose its charge, and social media would slowly fade, her 140 characters along with it.
But you see, ignorance isn’t bliss. I can’t take to my bed, reading the hours away, when there are things that need seen to, attended to, written about. Tiny, compact messages that are sent out into the world have meaning, every nuance of them, and I must be cognizant or I fail to do my part. My new favorite quote is this: Willful indifference is unconscionable.
Let’s define the word indifference: a lack of interest or concern; unimportance.
If I’m indifferent to the space I occupy, the words that are spoken in it, and how they impact the people that dwell in it, then the reality is that I’m choosing not to care. There wouldn’t be many of us that don’t care about our homes, our communities, and what goes on in them. I put utmost care into making sure my family has good food to eat, and that there is a comfortable place to relax after we’re done working for the day — a well-placed pillow or a cold drink to imbibe. I care about how my home looks, that the lawn stays neatly mowed, and that the house is sturdy and well-kept. We care about our communities, the new projects that are proposed inside of them, how we receive guests to her, the tourists we accommodate, and the ways we come together when one of us is in trouble or need.
I feel the same about my country, the sturdiness of her, how she receives visitors that become residents, the words we use inside of her, and that we come together for the greater good of her longevity. It behooves us to be aware of what affects her, actions we take that can harm her soils and air, how we treat the people who dwell inside her shores. Are there any of us who don’t care about these things? Or are we indifferent, doing our civil duty every several years or so, as well as every four? Believing that it’ll “all be taken care of”? After which we return to our lives believing that all will stay the same “because it always has”?
I don’t think this is how we treat our homes and communities, only caring every so often. We keep a steady hand over our accounts, what’s inside our refrigerators, when our house is looking shabby and needs a paint job. We obsess over the smallest of details with our families, the clothes our kids need for school, and making sure they have the newest soccer shoes to begin their season. We do this because we care, and are not blinded to the circumstances surrounding our tiny spot in our country. There is more to the space we live in, though, and there is more that affects us than a hot word of gossip that spreads like wildfire, unchecked, through our communities. We are more than small-town, because we are part of a bigger sphere.
There is a righteous rage that is beneficial to keeping our nation, and world, in check. We must care enough to see past the end of our driveway, or the county line that passes us as we fly by on numerous errands and frivolities. We must take in and connect with facts that are steadfast, unyielding. There should be no vacillation on our quest for truth. I will continue to care about words projected into space, into the vast neural pathways that connect us, and will not choose apathy. I will never let someone else decide what I should believe. Because in the end, while 140 characters might not define us — or anyone — entirely, it can certainly lead us down a path of indifference by suggestion if we don’t stay guarded to untruths.
