It's not often that I write two days in a row. It's also not often that I have what feels like such a momentous hour between about 5:30 and 6:30 AM. But this morning got up and running early, it seems.
The first thing was hearing two hard and poignant things on the news. The first is that (not surprisingly) the death toll from the earthquakes is rising sharply. The second is that the war in Ukraine is causing arms manufacturers to ramp up production. More on these two in a second.
Shortly after hearing this, my ears perked up. Was I really hearing Anglican chant on public radio? I turned up the volume, and sure enough, I recognized the sound of the a cappella group Cantus, and Bobby McFerrin's Psalm 23 (which at some point I heard in a cathedral setting, although I cannot remember where). By the third verse, I realized something surprising. The group was singing "She" and "Her" (as in, "She restores my soul"/"She won't forsake me"/"I will live in her house"). This new version, dedicated to his mother, isn't brand new, but I guess between my time without a computer, and spending relatively little time online now that I have one, I had never heard it.
This is one of those pivotal moments. Even I, in a long journey toward a more Goddess-centered perspective, hadn't until now completely turned the corner. But by the end of the short recording, I think I did. It sounded so right. So beautiful. So true. And the fact that music by a male composer was being sung by an all-male group made it particularly stunning. I was about to say "earth-shattering", but right now that is clearly a problematic metaphor.
So, back to earthquakes. First of all, I didn't mention drones yesterday. Talk about literally getting a bird's eye view, impossible even a few short years ago. Secondly, I keep reminding myself...there is no such thing as "death" in the divine mind. Life and love are ever-flowing. People who leave this earth plane for whatever reason, at whatever age, still live and grow on the spirit plane. I'm trying to find for myself the best way of talking about these events without sounding unfeeling -- and I guess the way working best for me today is to get away from the terminology of "disaster" and "tragedy", and into a terminology of gratitude. I am thankful for those who have gone through this extremely hard experience. I am thankful for those who volunteered to leave the earth plane at this time, to help all of us learn bigger lessons. I am thankful for the brave mothers who find themselves without their children, and the brave children who find themselves without their mothers. I am thankful for the bravery of those in serious physical pain, or still waiting for help. I am thankful to all the brave people who have rushed to help. I am thankful for the food aid, medical aid, shelter aid. I am thankful to the Goddess (in whatever form She/He/It takes) for comforting people literally in the "valley of the shadow of death". I am thankful that this event may shake some new thinking into our human perspectives. I am thankful that Nature is doing what She has to do to continue to make this earth plane viable for life.
And in the end, I am thankful for the harsh contrast of hearing about people voluntarily choosing to build weapons. If such news makes us sad, may we choose our own loving and thankful path today. May everything happening in the world help propel humanity and the earth into a more love-filled reality.
