Instant Summer

It seems like there is no such thing as spring anymore. Not in any extended, "classic" sense anyway. Monday morning was chilly, but expected to get up to about 70. If you looked out the window until late afternoon, it might as well have been 20 degrees outside; the ground and grass were brown, the tree trunks and branches were brown, and there were still some piles of dingy snow. Late in the afternoon, it actually got up to nearly 80, and tiny tips of green grass and crocuses were beginning to peep out of the soil. Overall, though, what a strange disconnect between temperature and visual reality. This morning, after a warm night, green was everywhere (except not yet in the trees.) Grass that was brown yesterday was Masters Golf Tournament green today. Some flowers had come out by 9 AM, and with more 70's expected, the transformation will rapidly continue. Traditional spring highs of 50 and 60 are expected to return over the weekend -- I could live with that year round, honestly.

Have you ever seen the film, "Koyaanisqatsi"?  It came out in 1982, and I must have seen it in 1983. I remember watching it on video with my Upper West Side roommates, in our dated futon-and-shag-rug-decorated living room. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it for its continued relevance. However, it was, for me anyway, a hard movie to watch. There is no dialogue or voice-over. Basically, the filmmaker starts with images of an unpopulated American landscape, slowly bringing in evidence of human interaction with the land through farming, industry, crowded cities, pollution and traffic. The music, by Philip Glass, is brilliant but edgy -- rhythmic, discordant, insistent. The music and the images meshed perfectly, but in a way almost guaranteed to disturb and force you to think.

In the Hopi language, "Koyaanisqatsi" means "life out of balance." Even having had about the lightest footprint on the planet of anyone I know, I judge myself harshly for contributing to global warming and pollution. If I slip just a little, I start to judge us all quite harshly, and enter a place of immense fear for the future. If there is a return to balance, I doubt it will come mainly from changing how we live, what resources we use, and fighting the corporate and political entities that seem to have more power than we do. My hunch is that the biggest thing out of balance is that hatred, of ourselves, of others, of the land. Today, I cannot tweak the high temperatures or the rapidity with which flowers are coming out, or contribute much more to the solution than the blue box of recycling just taken out to the curb. But I can tweak how I feel about myself, and hear the words of Love saying, bravo brave human for choosing this important time to live and grow. Bravo for your efforts to make the world a better, more just and beautiful place. Be kind to yourself, Liz. Today, just do what you can. And enjoy the sunlight, the grass and the flowers. For heaven's sake, that's what they are here for.