There is something about sitting in the emptiness that is beautiful.
Looking out these windows to the expanse of sky, I am imagining our whole planet, all the human beings and all of nature.
I am conscious in this absolutely quiet space of the presence of untold human suffering and of animals and fish and birds and all of nature around our world.
At the same time there is presence of joy, even, I believe, in places of suffering as a word of comfort is spoken, or a hug is given, or food and water are distributed, or a person is rescued.
Nothing can be minimized about the destruction of all kinds from the acts of Mother Nature and the cruelty of human nature.
I started thinking of a list but had to stop because the magnitude feels like too much and I know I am only aware of some. I would inadvertently leave out what I do not know but exists.
I simply try to hold it all for a moment and ask for some measure of grace to enter and ease each person for even a moment or two, for a breath or two, for some part of this day.
I know that comparison is usually not useful, but I couldn’t help but think about the contrast between protests in this country at the showrooms of expensive cars while buildings are crumbling in many countries from war and natural disasters.
Protesting the wealth and power and attempted control of a few while other countries are trying to find bodies under rubble and those living are carrying others in their arms.
At the same time, while we may not be digging in the rubble, people are dying here because of loss of the medicines and care they need.
It all feels too big, too beyond comprehension when I think of what choices could be made when it comes to the human piece. And perhaps then Mother Nature would quiet down too.
Yet, I hope. Yet, I have faith. Yet, I trust that this is a wake-up call to create new paradigms of how we live.
I don’t have my usual books surrounding me, companions that sustain and nudge through the stories of others who have endured over generations, but I do think of several titles that basically speak to “how should we live?”
I hope I am up to the challenges of the days, weeks and months ahead, to serve and participate in whatever ways I can to bring a moment of grace and ease and presence and some resources where needed.
As I heard someone say the other day, “I can’t solve Ukraine or Gaza or many other things, but I can serve locally and that matters.” This from a woman who was very high up in the armed services in our country and traveled the world.
I am grateful for this empty room moment this morning, for the windows to the expanse of sky that is the same sky all around the globe.
May we believe that we do have the power and love and compassion, empathy and grace to make a difference. We do. As many writers say at the close of their pieces, we are in this together, wherever we are.
And now I will pack my car and get ready to travel to my next geography, to a new community and to find likeminded connections with whom I can join to, as John Lewis said, create good trouble.
To strength, wellness and safekeeping for you.
Happy moving on, Dawn. May your serenity and wisdom sustain you on the journey. X
Dear Dawn! What an exquisitely written piece this is! May I share?