When you have nothing to say…

IMG_1183Sitting alone.  In my mind I am in a garden in Massachusetts, several years ago.  The sun is warm, the air is heavy, and the birds pierce the quiet.

I have seen the writing on the wall from the beginning.  He showed us who he is, like a blinking sign in the night.  I could list each transgression and horror for you here, but I’ll spare you.  In the middle of a war that targets our allies and women and children, a war that burst forth by a whim, and a war that shifts the balance of power in the middle east away from our US interests to those of our sworn enemy, his followers nod in agreement of his actions.  All in the name of making America great.

The debate last night presented a welcome, thoughtful discussion about issues soon to be at the forefront of a crucial election.  I see no clear path, although I know the outcome  for those who value sanity, compassion, and our future as a race.  With optimism I engaged in a discussion with an “always Trump”er.  Mistake.  The window opened wide  as I viewed the “other,” someone who believes his rhetoric and craves a new world so much that he has become her savior.  In some ways I agree with her: I crave a new world, too.

I wonder if it’s time to stop talking and shift to the spiritual path so I step into meditation, engulfing myself in the pure quiet of nature.  The Dalai Lama reminds us that intellect and spirituality are separate.   Spirituality, a refuge from the weight of responsibility for our collective futures.  Ahhh.

But I know that we cannot hide for long.  Each of us holds a light that must shine for change to happen.  How do we focus that light for the good of humanity without depleting our own resources?  Where are we compelled to move forward, each along our own path? And how do we break through our own limitations and blind spots to be able to create compassionate connections that bring others along into the light as we struggle to maintain our own illumination?

A few days ago I attended my high school reunion.  After 50 years, it’s amazing how the containers change, but the hearts remain the same.  Connection, love, a sense of belonging.  Finding commonalities and tapping at our edges, we parted with a sense of wholeness despite our obvious differences.

We each view the world through our own pain and experiences, and these shape our intellectual processing of reality.  What seems so obvious is  simultaneously hidden from sight.  We humans are a puzzling species.  I do hope we can figure things out.  I really love us.



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