Today I pause to praise this mutilated world in all its woundedness and fantastical beauty, and to remember that my story is but a tiny fragment of the ever-evolving magnificent mystery that is Mother Earth. My heart may feel torn by the torrent of horrendous images of violence being unleashed in Ukraine and Gaza; my mind incapable of fully comprehending the unending need for greed, cruelty, and avarice being played out again throughout this mutilated world.
Feeling the weight of this madness, my chin sags to my chest with a sadness that sinks deeper and deeper into my belly, only to be interrupted by the full throated singing of a mockingbird perched right outside my window, her hymn bearing witness to the restless beauty of this fresh new day, stirring in the warm summer breeze, as if to say:
Look Up, Look Up, Look Up From Your Desk; Look Up, Look Up, Look Up From Your Computer Screen!
So, what if I lack the precise vocabulary to accurately describe, much less fully embrace the majesty and beauty of this wonderous planet we all inhabit? And what if my habit of letting gravity get the best of me keeps pulling me down? This world may well seem as if it's being torn asunder by one asinine human blunder after another, but right now I swear I can hear Mother Earth calling out to me again and again anyway, begging me to follow the lead of the birds in the tree outside my window and sing a joyful song of peace and possibility, to stand up and be counted as one among the many who will keeping joining our hopeful voices together.
Let the gunslingers, profiteers, and prophets of doom dominate the headlines, airwaves and algorithms in cyberspace. Let the doubters doubt, the haters shout, the cynics snipe away.
As for Me, I Will Do What I Can:
I’ll cast my votes, send some dollars, lend a helping hand where I can. And I will plant some seeds in the garden today, then give them a slow drink of water and a sip of compost tea, while chanting and humming a little prayer of thanks for this chance to look into the future with hope. Perhaps the mockingbird and her cohort of winged messengers will join me. It is my job to plant seeds, in the ground and in consciousness. It is not my job to make them grow. That is the work of Gaia herself, as she has been for a billion years and counting.
Am I being naïve? Perhaps. While I may not be able to heal this mutilated world or bring peace to Ukraine or the Middle East, at least I can bear witness to the limitless possibilities waiting to burst forth from my heart and yours. Watch young, green shoots emerging from this rich, warm, black soil beneath my hands and feet. Pick the ripe figs and fresh herbs and share them with friends. Write and sing songs of love, hope, and laughter, affirming wholeness in my own, small way.
In my younger days, I not only thought my generation could change the world, but I was also convinced that we should. It was our mission. My generation had been born for the task of ushering in the "Dawning of the Age of Aquarius," having been gifted with the historic amount of postwar financial largesse flowing through our country's economy and an explosion of psychosocial awareness. It was my responsibility to live up to the changes and challenges.
Now... I’m just working on changing myself, making peace with my own shortcomings, letting go of judgments and doing my best to touch a few lives of those around me with love and compassion. To stay grounded and grateful daily.
Meanwhile the planet keeps revolving, and evolving, with or without my help. May I remember to see, feel, and share the awareness that this mutilated world we inhabit lacks nothing, except perhaps a willingness to see beyond her wounds and scars, including mine, and behold our wholeness and deep connections instead.
And...right now is as good a moment as any.
