Grief for a Dying Dream
A few years ago I had a “bad feeling”, and warned friends and relatives to pay off their bills and get their matters squared away, that there was some bad shit coming down the pike. That bad shit is arriving, and the light at the end of the tunnel is the oncoming train.
No government can fix this. No cult of personality can sway the consequences of what has been brought about. The only way through this time is through it. This morning I find myself grieving the passing of a dream, of the illusion of a strong and mighty nation. We’ll emerge from this, no doubt, but in what form remains to be seen.
Take good care of your friends, families, neighbors and self. Take deep breaths. Know the love in your life, and keep on keeping on. As always, this moment is all we have, no matter what swirling of fate or drama surrounds our lives.
I couldn’t put the sentiments of this blog entry better myself. Too much focus on the tunnel and what’s coming, of course, gets you to a point where you cannot personally function. I used to cripple myself mentally with worry about the bigger picture. But now, more than ever, gaining a sense of what we each can do is important. What we each do matters, with even the smallest positive action making a difference. The banks, the greed, global warming, extinctions, food shortages, riots… I try to be loving, I work to guard myself against undertaking negative actions, or thoughtless actions that may have negative consequences. And I grow things, I nurture wildlife in our garden, I keep hens (all of which you know via Twitter).
No, nothing I do stops the madness. But we have more butterflies, more bees, more insects and creatures dropping by, taking shelter that two years ago was not there because we did not live in this house. We invoke gentle but powerful spirits here, seeking to awaken the spirits of the place and to enjoin our ancestors for help in fighting what is here already, let alone what is coming. And, of course, we give a home to rescue hens coming from the hell of intensive factory farms that are part of the problem. We can’t help all. We can help some. We each should wake up and do what we can, and take joy from the good we do knowing that, in the end, we tried.
It sounds fatalistic, and I guess I am - but I am also positive about the power of the ordinary, the everyday actions, the will of people. I don’t think the will is there among our species as a whole to change, not before it is too late. It may be already. But I like to think some of us, come the train you reference, did try. It is in trying we find the gods and our own strengths, not in winning or losing the war for our planet’s and our species’, all species’, futures.
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