Who Will I?

Who Will I?

A niece insulted me yesterday. 
Nothing new. 
She does it often. 
Insult me, that is. 
And insult others.

No, she is not a bad person. 
On the contrary, quite loving. 
Or most often so.

So, why does she do that? 
Insult people she loves,
and wants love from?

I can think of only one reason. 
That she is either too certain
of what she believes in. 
Or too doubtful.

History is full of men
who killed others, not in numbers,
but in heaps and mounds and mountains. 
Only, because
they were too certain of themselves. 
Opposition had no right to exist,
as far as they could tell.

Yet others kill
so they can convince themselves
of the imaginary truth content of their lies. 
Lies, hidden, securely locked. 
In dark, deserted dungeons!

No one is immune. 
Mom used to get awfully angry. 
About anything and everything. 
At anyone and everyone. 
Why?  Was it merely in order to get results? 
Or in order to convince others? 
Herself?

Results do not require anger. 
Real anger only reduces positive outcome. 
Only excessive self-belief
and excessive self-doubt demand that. 
Truth and results
merely need evidence and gentle nudges.

Newton, Einstein and Darwin
never needed armies - standing or cyber. 
Nor anger.

But Modi needs it. 
As does my barbie-doll niece. 
What do we do
with these selfers: Believers and Doubters? 
How to make them see
that all they need is a commitment to truth,
even when inconvenient, uncomfortable.

But truth loses
when the option is a simple, comforting one:
anger!

I have no solution for their problem. 

Having lived a life-time with angry, difficult persons. 
Having loved them. 
Having fallen in love with them. 
Having always struggled
with their angry irritating intransigence. 
Having always lost. 

Is my niece
destined to live a life full of,
and spreading pain? 
All because she is unwilling to examine her beliefs?

Or, all because
I always gave up? 
With Mom? 
With the love of my life? 
With my beautiful little princess?

Is it them? 
Or is it me? 
They know not, thus are innocent of wrongdoing. 
I know, but have never had the courage, nor perseverance.

Who will the posterity find the real culprit? 
More importantly, who will I?

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