Canaries in the Mine
Searching the thesaurus to avoid duplication of the term sensitive only confirms cultural bias: touchy, hypersensitive, easy offended, easily upset, easily hurt (easy, easily, easily – thesaurus in need of a thesaurus), thin-skinned, defensive, paranoid, neurotic, uptight; difficult, delicate, tricky, awkward, problematic, emotive.
Perhaps if the world were wise, it would pay attention to sensitive human beings. It’s like a mental asylum out there. People jockeying to oppress newly liberated minorities. Folks clamoring to amass the most materiality before departing the planet, as if the ubiquitous they might miss their chance. Chemical companies competing to control the world’s food supply, bees dying by the millions, lobbyists greasing pockets of Senators, butting in line ahead of voters. Voices of The People stymied; small victories savored. Save the rivers, save the forests. What are our priorities as a species? What collective illusions are we laboring under?
We canaries detect the undercurrents, fragile plumage singed by flames long before they fan out on the evening news. Our bodies inform us daily of planetary imbalances. Sharing perceptions, only to discover ourselves discredited. Left brain right. Not sure what to do with impressions the right brain gathers, seeking answers. What is duty, purpose, path; floundering in a sea of indecision, knowing there are no shoulds?