running in place

I woke up today with my usual combination of profound apprehension and deep gratitude.  Not a flavor profile I would have picked, but it seems to be This Year’s Special.

I guess the thing of it is….the thing of it is that it continues to be difficult to maintain one’s footing in any area.  The basis of people’s lives is in question across the board, whether it be from lack of resources pushing you over the cliff to suddenly looking down during a life that appears to be working and seeing: Nothing beneath you.  I try not to sound like an idiot when people discuss these things with me, but really.  A big thing in life seems more and more to be the crucial importance of knowing when to leave something behind, especially if it’s something you’re used to.

Right now that something is, I think, illusion.  Or glamor, in its original meaning of a fairy dustish sort of thing that makes something look like something it isn’t.   It may LOOK like things are working, but they aren’t.  What is needed is a Gandhi-like universal world strike, in which everyone just stops.  Stops driving, stops buying, stops texting, stops stealing, stops lying, stops whatever it is. Quiet time on earth.  For a day clarity might surface-  even if a day would probably not be long enough to produce actual dynamic thinking.  We might see that the world is being run by a power elite that doesn’t care what happens as long as they keep their money.  We might see that this relentless push for capital doesn’t really help anyone and things could be a lot smoother and more productive.  If we stopped we might see that for the most part, our problems stem from being separated from our hearts.

That may, of course, be idealistic drivel.  But the cognitive dissonance going on is exhausting.  Which is why seeing the hundreds of wrens and robins and bluebirds in the garden in the early morning is so wonderful.  The pair of white ducks down the road, who supervise all activity in their garden, are enchanting, really. They stand with their heads together and wings touching, watching their human work in the garden, offering quiet quacks of instruction.  They have their own small swimming pool to paddle around in and drink from, as do the other geese and chickens on the hill since it has been so dry here for so long.  The water sometimes looks like quicksilver, splashing up on  creamy stomachs and necks above  yellow feet.  Sometimes it looks like the goose gaggle is standing around their pool, looking down and scrying.  At this point, their guess is as good as mine.

Still.  There is a music almost that calls a person to go on, and the importance of each moment shouldn’t be doubted.  There’s a big piece of me that knows we’re moving toward a global development that will change everything and for the most part for the better. It is hard not to let fear in when thinking about what that might be- but then again.  We really do have nothing to fear except fear itself, when you get right down to it.  Fear should inform us about where to take care, not keep us locked up.

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