We run — again and again — against the grain of the world. We do it because the other side cannot, or will not, speak. The danger is not always immediate: there are many stages between intent and harm. It’s like a crowd hurling stones; by the time they fly, the stones have picked up mud. What does mud do compared with dust?
It looks like magic, but the magic isn’t in the person or in the stone. It’s in the degree of action. Unhindered by obstacles, anger travels — and the crowd, aware of its fury, gives that anger form in the stones.
Stones, bullets, missiles — all are launched with one purpose: to reach the other end and strike, often producing massive destruction. Modern technology leaves little to chance: if something is built to hit, it hits, and the price can be millions of lives.
But even when weapons strike, the deeper question is whether the anger behind them actually lands where intended. Anger is a projectile that leaves a hand; depending on who it is aimed at and who receives it, that anger can ignite into a blazing conflagration or fizzle into nothing. You may witness millions fall on a battlefield from missile strikes, yet the one who is crushed by hatred — the person who bears the emotional blow — often has no defense, no counsel, and no way to measure the quiet devastation within.
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