Tributary to a Tributary to Tinicum Creek – Photo: L. Weikel
Green Again
My post last night was ‘hot,’ I know. It’s upsetting to contemplate just how out of balance Earth’s climate is at the moment and how much worse it may become in a very short period of time. As a result, I’m proffering this collection of thoughts and photos to counter the images of a burning planet from last night’s post and to bookend it with the cooler, if not also troubling, content of the post from the night before last. In short, I’m back to green again.
My walk the other day along a secluded and seldom-traveled road that meanders along the haphazard twists and turns of a creek bed was deeply restorative. It’s hard not to feel the juiciness of life being replenished when surrounded by so many shades of emerald, lime, and forest green.
The burble of water tumbling over a rocky streambed comforts me and brings a deep sigh of peace to my soul. I probably don’t need to tell you, those of you who’ve stuck with me on this 1111 Devotion journey, the number of times I’ve been consoled by the creeks that surround my home (but especially, of course, my beloved Tohickon). I doubt if I can ever express my gratitude for ‘life’ leading us to this particular place to raise our sons and cultivate our marriage.
Rocks and Moss – Photo: L. Weikel
A Pause
I’m tempted to take this post in a direction I wasn’t intending when I began writing this evening. That would be the direction of railing against fracking and the intrusion of pipelines near and through the land I love so much both here where I live and also in Northampton County and across the Lenape Sipu (Delaware River) in Hunterdon County, New Jersey.
The devastation to our natural habitats by companies feeding the climate change that’s resulting in unprecedented flooding, wildfires, and drought is supported by the highest court in the land. That’s hard to accept.
Those very same forces are demanding that we return to the Jim Crow era of our country’s history.
But perhaps I should just go back to taking a pause from it all. Let’s take a moment instead to revel in the simple, abundant beauty of the many shades of green in our world.
For once in a very long time I have essentially no idea what’s gone on in the outside world today. Not only did I refrain from reading anything on my phone, I also avoided watching any of my usual fare that keeps me up to date on the latest facts and figures of how our world and nation is coping with this unprecedented transformation. The respite was unintended but probably essential.
Yes, I know. There are many people who eschew the media and distrust it and the hyperbole with which much of what’s going on ‘out there’ gets discussed. But I’ve come to find some sources that do not so much inflame as explain. And I find doing my best to understand what’s going on so I can make reasoned and well-informed decisions for myself to be at least somewhat comforting.
I like knowing the truth, even if it’s not easy to hear it. The thought of being fed a bunch of lies just so I will supposedly feel good makes me want to rip my hair out. That’s because I detest lies. Lies rob us of first-hand experience of what is. And what else is there to life but first hand experience of what is?
Lies would have us believe that what we’re experiencing isn’t what’s right before our eyes. That’s maddening. That makes the part of our brain that makes sense of things constantly whir in the background, stuck in a whirling rainbow of a processing loop as it tries to make sense of something incapable of logical resolution.
Alternative Programming
Instead of paying attention to the current state of affairs, instead of feeling helpless as I watch people ignore science and instead choose to believe happy talk that’s calculated to have them act against their own best interests (yet again), Karl and I chose to watch two vastly different programs.
The first show we watched was the first episode of Mrs. America, which can be seen on Hulu. It has a pretty amazing cast – but I’d resisted watching it when I first heard about it because it is about Phyllis Schlafly.
I was tempted to just binge watch right into the second episode, but being reminded of the dumbfounding sexism that’s been part of our society for so long was demoralizing. The events depicted in that first episode were from when I was around 13 years old and the Equal Rights Amendment was in the process of being ratified by the states. I remember feeling that it was a no-brainer. I couldn’t imagine it not being ratified.
And thus it began. The backlash we’ve been living with ever since that time when women got this close to being recognized as equal to men. And therein lies one of the utterly maddening truths of my lifetime.
A Bit Better Feeling
There’s no question we’re hooked on the limited run program, Mrs. America. But we decided we needed to drop back to one of our absolute favorite programs that helps us reclaim faith in humanity, Call the Midwife, on Netflix.
If any of you haven’t yet started watching this treasure, I urge you to do so post haste! There’s never been a better time to give yourself the gift of watching this warm and wonderful program.
First of all, I believe there are eight or nine seasons. So you have a deep reservoir to dive into as this pandemic wears on. Plenty of time to get to know the characters, revel in their triumphs, and lament their frailties, all the while knowing (as you will, once you start watching) that somehow or another, even if things don’t turn out the way you hope for a particular character, something redeeming can be discovered in the ashes.
Call the Midwife lets us hang on to the thread of hope. Hope for humanity and hope for ourselves.
Just tonight, the two episodes we watched were set in 1962. The Cuban missile crisis was in full swing and it was fascinating to see the reaction of the English. I was only three when that occurred, so I have no memory of any of the anxiety that swept the world. But the parallels to how life-changing it would have been had nuclear weapons been unleashed to the devastation the entire world is watching unfold now was eerie.
Transformation
We’re most definitely in the midst of major transformation on many different levels, not only in our many societies across the world, but also in our own selves.
In some ways, I feel like I can’t escape the messages, even when I actively opt to escape for an evening. That tells me that the time for hiding our heads in the sand are done. Over.
The respite I had today demands to be repeated. The respite feels as important to the transformation as the bigger, deeper, more obvious ‘work.’ It must be respected as essential as any activism or awareness.
I wonder what May will bring to us.
**Remember to do your Perelandra EoP Biodiversity Project sometime tomorrow (the 1st day of the month), if you’re joining me, and many around the world, in that brief but powerful effort.
Actually, I’m pretty sure we can all agree the ordeal’s been going on for far longer than a week (and will undoubtedly spin out into the foreseeable future). But this week, in particular, has been especially brutal. And this evening’s climax, albeit both predictable and foreseeable, was nevertheless searingly disappointing. And deeply worrisome.
A Respite With and For My Friends
While I was noodling around FB a little, contemplating what I might write this evening, I came across a ‘share’ from a friend of mine that shifted my perspective. It immediately made me think of you – the people with whom I share myself, my thoughts, my joys, my worries, my peeves, and my devotion.
Right away, I knew I wanted to share his share that shifted my spirits, with you. Why? Because of this truth: a joy shared is magnified exponentially, just as a sorrow shared is halved.
What I find especially fascinating, though, is that I call this man who touched my heart with his FB share my friend. The truth is, we barely know each other. I live in Pennsylvania, he lives in Salt Lake City. We met eight years ago and spent maybe ten days total in each other’s company in Iquitos, Peru. We’ve not seen each other nor spoken since the end of February, 2012.
We rarely, if ever, communicate directly, even though we’re FB ‘friends.’ But FB does give us the ability to stay in touch tangentially. And one of the greatest blessings, for me, are the thoughtful and often fascinatingly beautiful or poignant posts he shares. They’re often insightful in some way, provocative of a different perspective, or simply loving or peaceful.
This friend I made eight years ago when I was in the throes of grieving for my son makes a difference in my life. His posts often touch my heart or make me think or perceive in a different way. And yet, as I said, we (he and the eight or so other people in our group) only spent a total of a little more than ten days together- albeit ten intense days.
The Briefest Encounters
My point is that the briefest encounters can make a huge difference in our lives. Kindnesses, smiles, words of encouragement, gestures of hope…they make a difference.
We make a difference.
Here again is the song my friend Brock shared on FB this evening that shifted my perspective. I needed to hear it. I bet you do, too. I hope you feel what I did when I listened because we need to carry on and not lose our heart.
