Clamor: (n) a loud and confused noise, especially that of people shouting vehemently.
Is it possible to object without being objectionable?
Can we raise issues without raising our blood pressure?
Can we stimulate the conversation without stimulating the anger that inhibits reasoning?
Why do we clamor?
Do we secretly think we may be wrong, and the more we shout the less likely the exposure?
Are we obsessed with the notion that our much speaking actually affects the thinking of others?
When will we comprehend that the louder we get, the less power there is in what we say?
Why is cleverness dying?
Why is diplomacy viewed as weakness?
Why would people mock the notion that “a soft answer turns away wrath?”
When did sheer brute force convince our nation to pursue its prowess?
Is it possible to make such a convincing argument that it can be delivered in a whisper?
Does the proclamation, “change the world” have to be blared, or can it be delivered with an ironic smile?
The louder we get, the less is done.
The more intense we become, the less effective.
The reason the meek inherit the Earth is because the dominant, forceful and tribal leaders kill one another off–leaving behind the inheritance of an Earth that still needs to be reformed, but would prefer it be done with some gentleness.
I’m going to stop clamoring.
I shall no longer clamor.
To clamor is to annoy.
Do I really believe that? Do you really believe that?
Maybe we could start believing it together.