In fact, people who are drowning are usually very quiet and subdued. Their limbs are below the surface, and they're struggling so hard to take the next breath that they don't have the air to call for help.
I've been thinking a lot about this lately. These days I feel like there's a weight on my chest and I find myself gasping for air. I feel like I'm underwater.
I think a lot of people feel this way. Overwhelmed, surrounded, muted, submerged.
The sheer pace of information, the cruelties, ignorance, atrocities, and ironic apathy is thick enough to drown in.
In reaction, I've retreated. I'm a little less engaged, a little less outspoken. I'd rather be quiet than contribute to a cacophony.
Now I'm refocussing on local ways to do good in my community, because the global scale is unbearable.
I can't save the world, but I can improve my corner of it. I can make it safer for me and for my community.
If I can improve something, maybe I'll be able to breathe again.