Recovered from the Wayback Machine.
Dorothea writes today:
Today I found out (never mind how; it was not through my direct agency) that a decidedly ungentle set of words, questioning not my courage but my ability to feel and act as a human being should, has been levelled at me elsewhere.
Honestly, I wish I hadn’t found out. I wish I still didn’t know. Tilt
Unfortunately, I was the agent of Dorothea’s discovery, because I was also a recipient of the words she speaks of. And I understand—all too well—that tilt she feels.
Dorothea writes of courage, and how she has no courage. I think she’s the bravest person I know, because she speaks out even though she dislikes confrontation. She speaks out because it’s right to do so, not easy to do so.
My reaction to the words differed because I reacted with emotion, my own personal Boggart (and if you haven’t read Harry Potter, find a child and ask them to tell you what a Boggart is). I react with fire and passion and hurt. I am nothing if not a bundle of emotions, to my detriment because I do know that these same emotions can lose me respect.
(Yet, aren’t these same emotions, passions, whatever you want to call them the impetus that begins conversations on difficult topics, time and again?)
Dorothea, for all of her ‘lack of courage’, and me for all of my ‘over emotionalism’ are at least willing to step outside of our comfort zones and speak of difficult things, to take a stand, and to face within ourselves our own “Boggarts”.
I wonder how many of those who read us, who speak of courage and emotion and feelings and love, can say the same?
