Saturday, September 5, 2009

The World I Know

The world I know is different than this one. It is the world as I believe it was meant to be – lush, verdant, full of song and remembering. In it, god has 6 billion faces and multitudes of representations – the drape of the willow’s branch, the sweet burst of ripe mango on the tongue, the honk of wild geese across a cold winter sky. God is everywhere. God is everything. And our lives are lived as a response to the clarion call to honor, to remember, to live brighter, bigger, deeper. The world I know does not separate nature and man. Nor is it a juggernaut rolling blindly toward destruction. The world I know is a world in which we have finally allowed ourselves to become humble and wise. We are still human, to be sure, but we celebrate each day to play our part in the great harmony of things, taking great care, of ourselves, each other, and this blue planet spinning through the universe. We have remembered what it is like to bring balance to things. We have remembered that the earth is perfect, exquisitely perfect in its bountiful offerings. It doesn’t need fixing. We do. But we know this, and remember how to harvest in harmony, and we abandon the madness of “scarce resources” and we have let go of the profound fear that drives us to tinker with and destroy every living thing. In the world I know, the deepest callings of the heart, the great and worldwide need for something higher has been realized, because we see god in one another’s faces, and although we still know pain, we have evolved beyond the madness that led us to such unnecessary suffering. In this world, we create local, national, and global policies that ensure comfort and security, because we have finally realized that resources are not scarce – they are mismanaged and horded. In the world I know, I am god, and the tiniest part of god, and so are you. In this world, I am not my wrinkling skin. I am my laughter, my heart, my love, my wonder and my wondering. I am beautiful, because radiance is allowed – no expected, to pass through me. And radiance is not separate from humility. In the world I love, the deep and profound grief of living with such madness on this planet does not threaten to destroy me. The few at the fringes, who saw god in everything all along, become the commonplace masses, become a cacophony of discordant yet perfect song, with enough breadth, with enough space, to accommodate everyone. Still finding our own pathways to god – yet with a chuckle and a small smile, acknowledging – yes, you and I, yes our gods even, here, beneath our skins, here, in the stillness and smallness and slow breath, here, and even when we are gone, we are all one.

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