Sunday morning before sunrise.  Still dark outside.  I have the privilege of taking a nap later in the day if I choose.  Why not get up, do some reading, explore the contents of my mind?  Aspiring to find words to more clearly understand this time, the events occurring globally, in America, and in Batavia my adopted hometown, I reach for a textbook on  the shelf from my undergraduate days, Philosophical Investigations by Ludwig Wittgenstein.

Almost a year ago Americans were made aware of a very contagious virus infecting Wuhan, China.  Months have passed and out of diffidence, the result of uncoordinated, inept response, — the virus, now envelops the entire country.  Our country, coast to coast is a hot spot, an unfolding disaster.  It is a fact that between 200,000 and 300,000 new infections are test positive every day.  We passed 300,000 deaths this week.  We have several effective vaccines.  It is unclear how long before enough of us are inoculated with a vaccine to make a difference. 

As to the official response to the devastation which the pandemic is having upon millions who are out of work and businesses bleeding cash without revenue, — last night congress was on the cusp to pass a 900 billion dollar relief bill.  This came after days of delay, wrangling to prevent the Federal Reserve buying up the ballooning debt of towns and cities.  This naked attempt to hold desperately needed relief hostage, was designed to prevent the incoming administration from coming to the aid of cities, towns drowning in debt. 

I am tempted to conclude Americans who, not convinced of the danger of covid-19, now ill and occupying ICU beds, as well as conservative-minded members of congress choosing political advantage in these dire circumstances, — are alien, inhuman, transported to earth from another planet.  

I know such a supposition is ridiculous.  A better description of our condition is made by Ludwig Wittgenstein in his Philosophical Investigations.  Many are bewitched, turned around in our sense of reality, by content absorbed from Fox News, from the outgoing obsessively tweeting President, and from social media/Facebook.  Language has the power to spellbind us.   Our condition now, we perceive fellow Americans as “the enemy,”  and many believe a highly contagious virus is a mere inconvenience, despite the testimony of science .

Tomorrow is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year.  The Druids recognized something important, that ritual of some sort is called for on this evening of maximum darkness.  Do we not

need words, a performative utterance, to dis-enchant us?  What words will break the spell of bewitchment, to implore the return of light, of truth?

I take solace in the surrounding halo of Christmas lights.  The bright decorations can be experienced worldwide. 

The colored lights are a symbol of hope.

 

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