Tag Archives: writing

The Best of Times … the Worst of Times: Real Life in the Age of Social Media

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”

Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities,

Dickens’ well-known quote reflects the contradictory nature of the era it describes, the French Revolution and the Industrial Revolution, where societal extremes of wisdom and foolishness, belief and doubt, and hope and despair coexisted. The phrase is often used today to describe any period of conflicting circumstances, where seemingly opposite conditions exist simultaneously. 

Dickens captured an era riven by contradiction—one that is strikingly familiar in our decaying, digital age. Today, we move through a world that offers extraordinary access, unprecedented connectivity, and boundless opportunities for expression. Yet those same spaces are shaped by curated identities, algorithm-fed anxieties, and an ever-growing sense of distance among people who are, paradoxically, more connected than ever.

The fears, insecurities and cowardice which define the essence of keyboard warriors have come to define their very lives. And pushes them even further from humanity.

It Was the Best of Times: The Goodness of Real Life

Real life … messy, unpredictable and intimate remains the realm where meaning truly accrues and matters.

When I am out in public, be it the local dog park, a mixed-use shopping retail development, restaurants, the courthouse, bars, going for walks, I interact with people from all walks of life. Men, women, numerous races and ages. Each time, there is laughter, discussions centered on our families, our pets, the holidays, our health, the beauty of the day. I have dear friends from both ends of the political spectrum. We socialize, party together, laugh together.

In real life, conversations are not filtered through screens or stripped of tone and nuance. A friend’s laughter, the warmth of a handshake, the look in someone’s eyes when they understand you … these moments carry a weight no number of “likes” can replicate. Human relationships deepen through vulnerability, shared experience, and presence. Real life offers the “age of wisdom,” where insight grows not from viral posts but from quiet reflection, trial and error, and authentic connection.

Real experiences ground us. They tether us to something permanent and tangible: the smell of freshly cut grass in the springtime, the scent of the Christmas tree, the chaos of family gatherings, the comfort of routines, the joy of unexpected kindness. These are the “seasons of light,” moments illuminated by genuine human engagement.

It Was the Worst of Times: The Digital Landscape of Angst and Despair

Yet we live simultaneously in a world where social media defines culture. Platforms promise connection but often deliver its hollow imitation.

To properly illustrate the decay of society, one need only understand that the financial goal of the five (5) wealthiest corporations in the United States is attained by enticing us to immerse ourselves completely in our personal devices, to remove ourselves from real life and to exist solely on social media. To isolate ourselves. To limit our face-to-face human interaction. That insures their financial success while insuring the destruction of our well-being.

Here, the “age of foolishness” reigns … where impulsive opinions eclipse thoughtful dialogue and where appearance overshadows substance. Belief contorts into echo chambers, while incredulity becomes a reflex to any idea that challenges our curated worldview. We scroll endlessly, absorbing news of tragedies, political battles, and social comparisons until the world feels saturated with crisis. Cowardice and fear are the watchwords. If you do not agree with someone’s viewpoints? You need only “block them” on social media. With a keystroke, you have eliminated intelligent discourse and the expanding of your mind.

We are inundated with political parties disagreeing for the sake of disagreeing. Promulgating the power of their own party over the needs of the Republic. Indeed, politics has become a new religion rather than an enlightened arena where we can engage in intelligent conversation with a shared goal, the well-being of our nation. Politics is now pop culture. Name calling. Inflammatory labeling. Each tribe remaining in the safety and comfort of their own echo chamber. Pundits opining that we are closer to a civil war now than at any time since the end of the Civil War.

There is the parade of angst, personal attacks, tribal entrenchment, absolutism, and fear … the very worst of our qualities.

This is the “season of darkness.” Online, despair grows quietly: the loneliness of constant comparison, the fear of missing out, the anxiety of measuring oneself against the polished illusions of others. Validation is quantified, self-worth becomes algorithmic, and interactions feel more transactional than relational.

However, when people experience “real life” and interact personally with their fellow humans, more often than not, it is our goodness which shines brightly. Not our disagreements. When pain, anxiety and fear are disclosed, it is in the context of a safe place to be shared and cared for by people who want only the best for you. It is tragic that we have unnecessarily permitted social media to diminish our human connection.

In this winter of digital despair, everything is visible, yet little feels real.

The Spring of Hope: Rekindling Humanity in a Connected Age

Despite its cold edges, social media also holds the “spring of hope.” It has connected the isolated, amplified marginalized voices, and spread information at breathtaking speed. But harnessing its good requires remembering that platforms are tools, not substitutes, for human connection.

We can reclaim the best of both worlds by grounding ourselves in real relationships while using digital spaces intentionally. Social media should supplement our lives, not consume them. It should extend community, not replace it.

Choose Light Over Darkness

Just as Dickens depicted an age torn between extremes, we too, navigate a world of contrasts. The best of times and the worst of times coexist in our hands … literally, in the glowing rectangles we carry everywhere.

The goodness of real life lies in its humanity. The manner in which our souls seek out to connect with others. The despair of social media lies in its impersonality. By choosing presence over performance, conversation over commentary, and authenticity over algorithms, we can keep the light from being swallowed by the dark.

In the end, it is up to us to determine which “season” defines our era.

Ashes Set Free

We live in a society of rules. Rules for seemingly everything. In 1925, Texas passed a law stating it was illegal to milk another person’s cow. In 1937, Minnesota passed a law prohibiting women from dressing up on public streets as Santa Claus. In 1961, Gainesville, Georgia passed an ordinance stating it was illegal to eat fried chicken with a fork. In Oklahoma, it is technically illegal to cuss in public places, in the presence of a female, or around children under the age of 10. [Which if enforced, would result in a reduction of the average Oklahoman’s verbal communications by 65%.]

Therefore, it should come as no surprise that various international, national, state and local laws exist regulating the spreading of a loved one’s ashes. It should also come as no surprise that there is a cottage industry of corporations who for a shiny dime, will plan, assist and guide you through the spreading of your loved one’s ashes.

I can only imagine Little Johnny, the Ash Scatterer in first grade. When his teacher asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, Little Johnny enthusiastically responded, “I wanna grow up and help spread my Grandpa’s ashes around the Back 40!”

In the United States, traditional burials are slowly being replaced by cremation and alternative burial or ash-scattering services. According to the 2020 NFDA Cremation & Burial Report, the cremation rate was 56%, surpassing the burial rate of only 37.5%. Cost is certainly one factor. The freedom to release the remnants of your loved one in special places, places of meaning, of meditation, of places which bring peace and comfort are certainly other reasons.

Scattering your loved one’s ashes can elicit deep emotions. In the best of circumstances this act can renew your spirit, strengthen your resolve, be a bold, ever-growing bond and a reminder of your loved one. Ashes are the last, tangible vestige of their physical presence. To leave them in places where your loved one wanted to go, or talked about, or where you had incredible shared experiences, more closely binds your souls together.

For those who know me even in passing, it should come as no surprise that I did not look up nor even consider any laws passed by international, national, state or local governments which would prohibit me from spreading the ashes of my beloved daughter, Morgan.

Morgan is now offshore near Tahiti. She became one with the Grand Canal in Venice, Italy. She is in Washington, D.C. She is a part of a peaceful brook in Kyoto, Japan. She is in the end zone of the Cotton Bowl where she and I enjoyed a number of Texas – ou rivalry games together. Off the coast of Cabo San Lucas. Joined with a shipwreck off Barbados.

And now, part of San Francisco Bay having become one with the water in Sausalito.

Morgan being Morgan of course had to have the last laugh. As I was remembering her, her laughter, her intelligence and yes, her pain, I slowly opened the small container. As she was becoming one with the water, a sudden burst of wind came up and part of her was blown back toward me! Really Morgan? Really? What the actual blue hell?

Well, that was unexpected! The solemnity of the moment being interrupted by the absurdity of wanting perfection.

Afterwards, we slowly walked down the rocky shoreline. About 10 minutes later a local fisherman hooked what appeared to be a large fish. We watched with fascination the on-going struggle. His helper grabbed a large net and when the catch materialized, it was a Stingray! About a 4-foot-wide Stingray! It wasn’t until I returned home that the timing and symbolism of this event was made clear.

Some people believe Stingrays, with their graceful underwater movements represent adaptability and inspire people to navigate life’s difficult currents. They stand for emotional harmony and the significance of preserving inner peace even in choppy waters.

Stingrays are perceptive animals that exhort us to believe in our gut feelings and inner wisdom. They teach us how to approach life’s challenges with poise as they move with grace and finesse. Aren’t those lessons universal? Certainly, I have attempted to learn some of them through Morgan, reading her journals and remembering her strength and struggles.

Poise. Grace. Finesse. Inner peace. Harmony. So easy to write. So difficult to find and embrace. So elusive. We all desire peace and harmony.

And yet, a harsh reality which frightens so many is that sometimes going to war is the only way to find and obtain those elusive qualities of peace and serenity.

But those qualities are present. Surrounding us. Within our grasp. Sometimes, it takes an Ai generated song to remind us of that which gives us strength. And hope. And resolve.

https://suno.com/s/gr86nC62zW2wJ3Mr

When Words Wound the Soul

Dear Dr. Christina Propst a/k/a Chris Tina:

In the early morning hours of July 4, 2025, a gut wrenching catastrophe struck Central Texas. An unimaginable event which would take the lives of so many little girls. Girls, daughters whose future lay before them. Unlimited possibilities. Young, innocent, naïve, full of life souls. They knew not political parties nor the divisiveness which is tearing apart the Republic. They are our best hope for greater tomorrows. And yet, you exacerbated the agony their parents would experience. The darkest of days which will forever haunt them.

In your ignorance, you felt the need to look past compassion, grace and understanding.  And you posted this on your social media page:

May they get what they voted for? Bless their hearts? [In this context, it is a term of derision.]

This from a trained, so-called professional pediatrician. A medical doctor.

As parents were experiencing the worse pain possible, the public outcry against this doctor was swift and sure. Social media disseminated her words and the backlash went viral. Consequences were immediate. The doctor was fired from her position at Blue Fish Pediatrics, an independent partner of internationally renowned Memorial Hospital. Complaints are being filed with the Texas Board of Medicine.

The good doctor saw her world crumbling, albeit in a manner which pales in comparison with a parent burying his child. In all reasonable likelihood, panic began to set in. And then, the doctor did what many people under similar circumstances often do … she tried to rectify her damaging words through an apology. An apology which rang as hollow as her initial words had been horrific.

As part of her “apology,” the doctor said that politics have never impacted her judgment or actions as a medical provider. But that’s not really true. After Texas Governor Greg Abbott issued a ban on school masking mandates, Dr. Propst stated the Governor was a direct threat to the health and well-being of the children of Texas. This despite the fact that children under 12 years of age were least susceptible to Covid19.

In 2020, the good doctor organized a letter which in essence blamed Congressman Dan Crenshaw for Houston’s COVID surge. This was based on Dr. Propst’s belief that Congressman Crenshaw unfairly pushed back on lockdown hysteria stating, “Dan Crenshaw, on the other hand, has spewed lies for the past four months – minimizing the threat we face and spreading dangerous disinformation for self-indulgent headlines.”

Both politicians are Republican. Dr. Propst is a Democrat. But there were no politics in play? This is what happens when blind allegiance to your political party predominates over the needs of the Republic … or the needs of the family. My dear doctor … do not insult our intelligence.

In her attempted apology, the good doctor also stated, “… her post came from a “place of frustration” over the need for “more and better support and funding to help prevent and respond to tragedies such as this.” This language could have come directly from the DCCC. If ever there was a political statement, this would qualify.

Dr. Propst then wrote, “Perhaps my biggest regret is that my words are now serving as a distraction from our shared responsibility to heal the pain and suffering of those whose lives have been forever changed by unspeakable loss, and to take every step to ensure such a disaster never occurs again.”

Her biggest regret is that her words are a mere distraction? Not the pain they caused. Not exacerbating the grief which rips the hearts from parents who suffer such an unthinkable tragedy? Instead, her words are a mere distraction. That is her biggest regret?

Let us now take a look at another part of the good doctor’s attempted apology which also rings hollow.

In her attempted apology, she stated, “I take full responsibility for a social media comment I made before we knew that so many precious lives were lost to the terrible tragedy in Central Texas.” So, my good doctor, can we presume you believe your words would have been acceptable had fewer lives been taken assuming those lives were all MAGA persons? For discussions sake, what is the minimum number of MAGA people dying which would have been acceptable and excuse your hate filled messaging? What is your choice, Sophie?

There is another fact which calls into question the authenticity of the good doctor’s so-called apology. Now, I am not privy to the exact time the good doctor published her social media post. But, as for the timeline of the tragedy, we know:

On July 4, 2025:

5:57 a.m.: The Coast Guard was asked for help and started sending resources to the scene.

7 a.m.: Kerr County begins to evacuate people near the Guadalupe River in Hunt amid major flooding caused by 6 to 7 inches of rainfall.

10 a.m.: The Kerr County Sheriff’s Office confirms there have been “multiple fatalities” from “catastrophic flooding.”

So, we know that evacuations were in place as early as 7:00 a.m. And multiple fatalities were announced as early as 10:00 a.m. The scenes broadcast on social and legacy media were horrifying. So, despite the fact that the world knew of the tragic events and death which had visited Central Texas, this doctor did not know prior to her ill-advised statement? How is that remotely possible since she had actual knowledge of the flood and hoped that everyone, except MAGA voters stay safe and dry?

It is important to note that Dr. Propst did NOT say she was not concerned about children. To the contrary. She hoped they stayed safe and dry. That is, perhaps unless they were children of MAGA voters whose lives may have been taken by the flood. So, are we to presume wishing harm on MAGA voters, which harm would directly devastate their children, perhaps even turning them into orphans, is acceptable?

Her former employer, Blue Fish Pediatrics issued its own press release stating in material part, “That post does not reflect the values, standards, or mission of Blue Fish Pediatrics,” Blue Fish Pediatrics wrote. “We do not support or condone any statement that politicizes tragedy, diminishes human dignity, or fails to clearly uphold compassion for every child and family. We continue to extend our full support to the families and the surrounding communities who are grieving, recovering, and searching for hope.”

Dr. Propst’s social media post was atrocious. She was fired and her former employer distanced itself from her. Her apology was vapid.

So, what can the good doctor do to attempt to rebuild her life? That is a difficult question with nuanced complexities. Were I advising the good doctor, I would recommend the following: A public statement that in order to gain a much deeper understanding of our humanity, she would announce she is taking at least a one-year leave of absence from the medical profession. During this time, she commits to undergoing many hours of therapeutic intervention with an emphasis on compassion, a parent’s grief, and how politics is undermining our soul.

Then, I would advise the good doctor to attend as many funerals as possible for the victims of the tragedy. Sit in the back of the church and see in person, the pain permanently etched on the faces of parents. Take in the tears of family and friends and neighbors. Look into the eyes of a parent who believes that the very best part of them has been forever taken. Not just one funeral, nor 5, nor 10 … but as many as possible.

All Dr. Propst did was mumble out vacuous words with no meaningful action supporting them. She did not show the courage of her convictions, assuming she has any. Nor a commitment to taking action. Just words. Vapid, empty words.

And vapid, empty words will be all that remain of Dr. Propst.

Through Tragedy, We Can Find Our Soul

The forces that descended upon the Guadalupe River in Texas’ Hill Country in the very early hours of Friday, July 4, 2025, were a generational, worst-case scenario.  

Four months’ worth of rain fell in just a few hours. Water-laden thunderstorms stalled in place. When combined, this “perfect storm” gave rise to a wall of water that surged down the river in the darkness of the night. This in itself limited the number of people who could get warnings and move to higher ground.

Sunrise revealed the devastation and horror inflicted upon Texas. Summer camps along the Guadalupe River were buried under a choking tsunami of flood water. And yet, we still did not understand the extent of the tragedy to be revealed. Reports began to trickle in of people whose lives had been taken by this tragedy. Search and rescue operations conducted by numerous first responder units were shown on television and on social media. The grisly numbers began to be disclosed.

11 dead and many missing. 20 dead. 30 dead. The number kept rising just as surely as the flood waters had. The confirmed death toll reached 70 on Sunday afternoon. 90 or more on Monday morning, over 100 Monday night. Many of those found dead had not yet been identified, including children.

For the parents of the children who are still missing or have not been identified, they are existing in the worst hell imaginable. Sleep will not come to them. Their hunger is gone. A terror which can only be experienced by a parent who has had a child taken, grips their every moment. For some, it even snaps their will to live.

If ever there was a time for our nation to come together as the search continues, as hearts are broken, as souls are taken, that time would surely be now. Families are far greater and more important than any political party. The pain caused by the death of innocent children is universal. This would be the time and event which could start the path of healing. One could think that. And yet, one would be wrong.

Even as first responders and volunteers were placing their own lives in harm’s way, as a parent’s worst nightmare played out before their eyes, the social injustice, keyboard warriors, including some in the eating disorder community, began to spew forth their hate filled narrative. A narrative which gave new life to a quote widely attributed to Josef Stalin, “One death is a tragedy. A million deaths is a statistic.” Perhaps we have a tendency to feel more deeply individual losses rather than full scale tragedies. Regardless, the tsunami of political venom flowed with incredible force.

At this point, it would have been so easy to wrap oneself in righteous indignation, to call out the callous and unfeeling. To point out how people, lost in their own self-importance and identification politics, have exacerbated the pain for those families whose loss cannot be imagined.

Numerous people use social media as the vehicle to parade their ignorance. They believe that an entire segment of our society, literally millions of people are fundamentally bad because of whom they supported in the last election. As a society, we cannot allow ourselves to degenerate into this madness.

I choose to believe that people have the ability to rise above a crisis and to embrace the very best in humanity. That we can see the best in people. That when confronted with seemingly overwhelming strife, we have the ability to care the most for our fellow human beings. We hug parents who have experienced the most horrific loss possible. We honor those brave warriors who saved so many lives.

We remember. We mourn. We cry. We support those who must bear the most horrific loss possible. We feel and must remember our humanity.

In this article, I had intended to go off on those who had used this tragedy as a platform upon which to build their own destructive narrative. But then, loved ones (all 2 of them) and friends (all 3 of them) in essence stated, “Dunn, you are a f*cking loon if you do that! You will be no better than them if you do!”

They were and are … right. And I would have been so wrong. Wrong to pontificate. Wrong to inflate my views above all others. I cannot and will not, castigate others while my character flaws and faults are so prevalent and are a work in progress.

My heart goes out to those parents whose beloved children have been so cruelly taken. I know what it is like to experience that type of pain. The agonizing, soul crushing pain. But it would be so wrong to impose my own narrow views upon others. We are all unique, singular souls. And so, I mourn with you. And should any parent reach out, I will cry with you, I will hold you … you have a safe place.

And maybe, just maybe for the briefest period of time, we can escape our pain, our sorrow, our anger, our fear, through grace. And perhaps through humor. For me, Robin Williams provided that respite from heartache at least for a little while. I hope everyone can find their own goodness and love of life somewhere. Somehow.

Sound Advice at Last.

In the past eight (8) years, I have seen various psychiatrists, psychologists, therapists, counselors, shrinks, shamans, witch doctors and a few exorcists. (It takes a special sentient being to understand the many flaws and quirks which exist within me.)

But finally, I located one whose advice was incredibly keen and insightful. It moved me so much that I got permission to record his advice and share it online.

Of course, the advice was centered on me, being a father whose 23 year old daughter died from anorexia after she fought it for many years. We explored the inevitable guilt and depressive feelings that any father would have under these circumstances.

This is the advice given:

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/0Zl4KjRFf5Q

The advice received from the many, past mental health professionals who attempted to meander through my psyche in an attempt to reach me on a deep level, pales in comparison to this advice. This advice was the most insightful, sound, strong and compassionate I received.

And then … things get strange … very strange.

What makes it strange is that the person in the above video is not a person at all … it is actually an Ai generated image. The advice? Word for word came from an Ai program. And not a program specially designed for mental health issues. But a generic ChatGPT program. The image at the start of this article? Ai generated.

Some undoubtedly knew that from the beginning. I am no impressario of Ai generated images. But other people are. People who design and perfect silicone based programs.

These programs are still in their infancy. Imagine what these programs will be like in 2 years … or 5 years … or 10 years.

As a society, we believe that these programs can never have human empathy or life experiences so they will never be as insightful as person-to-person interaction. But that also means these programs will never have issues with countertransference or the incompetence or inherent failings of human beings. Go back and listen to the words being used. This silicone based program used words we associate with compassion, with caring, with concern.

Human generated therapy software programs are here to stay. Generated images improve in depth and quality seemingly every day. Therapy software programs are evolving as they continue to expand and learn.

The question that our mental health professionals need to be asking themselves at this point should not be, “should I be incorporating these programs in my practice in some way …”

But rather … “how am I going to incorporate these programs in my practice?”

The future is here.

Your choice is to embrace it … or be left behind.