| Now, don’t get me wrong— we Americans are in for a serious shit-storm. And the rest of the globe isn’t in good hands, either.
But will I take any and every opportunity to stay light with this reality?
Yes, I will.
Because in the face of what’s likely coming, I remember…
I remember the hero(ine)’s journey, where redemption is not possible without first going all the way down into the underworld. (Ahem, Harry Potter.)
I remember that my desire for humanity to survive this epoch of ego-driven mass destruction on the planet is just that—a desire. Understandable, heartfelt, tenderly naïve.
I remember that countless great species have gone extinct before us, and that although we are indeed vastly intelligent and highly capable, we are not special in our ability to survive our own folly, or our own fate.
I remember what Richard Rudd calls “The Great Change”, which might be summed up as a cataclysmic, apocalyptic implosion forced by the hand of our human actions and inactions, which is prophesized to catalyze the future iteration of life on this planet.
I remember the Hindu trinity of all energy in the cosmos, the ever-present and inescapable cycle of creation, preservation and destruction.
And I remember that taking life too seriously is its own death sentence. So even when things get dire, I invite myself to look for a sliver of light in the darkness, and go toward it.
Today, I remember all of this.
Does it help? Yes.
Do I still feel my gut in knots and my nervous system flush with anxiety?
Yes. Yes, I do.
Tears ran down my face this morning as I listened to “Untie the Strong Woman” on Audible, written and read by the ineffable Clarissa Pinkola Estés. Her voice in my ears, speaking on the love and protection of the blessed mother, was the medicine I needed.
Then I heard this excerpt of a poem by Mirabai Starr on a podcast and felt something sharp, soften:
Mother of suffering,
you carry the grief of the whole world
in your boundless, shattered heart.
Please, carry mine.
I know that the broken-open container
of your Mother's Heart
has room for us all
Above all, beloved, remember this:
You are not alone. We do this together. We sludge through the muck together. We ride the waves together. We swim the salty seas together. We face the rising exaltant sun and the mysterious dark moon, together.
With you, |
