Where does contemporary cynicism come from? I have a tough time cutting it any slack these days. Used to be, I could justify anyone's way of thinking or feeling with a "hey, that's them, not me, and who am I to judge?"
But now whenever I encounter cynicism -- especially in words coming out of my own mouth -- I get sad. Not the stubbed-my-toe sad or the can't-figure-out-what-to-eat-for-dinner sad, but the real sad that lurks around the edges of true things.
I just don't think we as a species have time and energy to waste on cynicism anymore. All of that could be spent on things we genuinely find fulfilling. "Because life sucks and I am disillusioned" is not an excuse. Life doesn't owe anyone happiness or anything else. That is its most frustrating and most liberating aspect.
Dunno, I can't figure it all out tonight, so here is a picture of some dried teasels and a black swan on the mantel.