Ancora Imparo, Part II.

Every so often, I veer into a land of cerebral musing. I enjoy a good conversation, but the best of them comes when the lightning bolt flashes from the dark, and I learn something I didn't know before.

Recently, I got involved in a conversation about the nature of hatred.

I am of the strange belief that hate is filled with all sorts of byproducts, that are, in and of themselves, somewhat to be wished for. Hatred hits the adrenaline button, which makes the senses more acute, and can bring on a sense of euphoria. And that euphoria can develop into a kind of narcissism, and with that, the more you have the more you want.....and the cycle continues.

Hate is seductive in that regard. Hate presumes a power that really doesn't exist. Hate is destructive in its creation. Hate is a flesh eating virus.

I recently came across hatred. I saw it on a man's face. He didn't know me, but he knew "my kind."

You know the kind. The kind that has education, and attempts understanding, and tries to be tolerant.

But the hating man was having none of it. He hated everything that I stood for. He hated where I came from, what I knew, what I didn't know, and how I looked at the world.

He wouldn't give me the chance to explain that I'm not all that crazy about how I look at the world, either, but.....

The really unbalanced part of this whole human equation was the fact that this was a proud member of the United States Marines.

He hated me because I never served. I didn't know the meaning of service. I didn't understand what is was like, and I was soft and weak and practically a voice of the terrorist.

Why would he think this?

Because I could not agree that the burning of a flag was worse than the burning of a holy book.