every day
"What do we most need to do to save our planet?” Someone asks. Thich Nhat Hanh, Zen Master and Peace Activist, replies;
“What we most need to do is hear within us the sound of the Earth crying.”
Most every day I cry. Not sad-don’t-look-at-me-tears. Rivers that run unannounced. That want to be seen just as much as the land speaks and the oceans sing.
Every Monday
A 9 or 10 year old looks up with eyes of endearment
Says something remarkably simple and effortlessly profound like
“Ms. Alison, did you know I’m part wolf”
Every Tuesday
Grading reflections
Words from a 19 year old read
“For now, I’m working on expanding my awareness and compassion”
Every Wednesday
In our Sustainable Systems class
We try to see in 4D
How the personal is the political is the planetary is the cosmic
With a thread of spiritual and satire woven through each sphere
Because if you can’t laugh or cry at the absurdity of the paradox
Then how do we sustain our happiness?
Every Thursday
In the morning, my friend and I turn whatever happened the day before into skits, as our dogs roam the grasses, we perform
In the evening, a group of us explore subversion as an act of ministerial leadership
(I keep having to look the word up)
Sub-ver-sion
The undermining of the power and authority of an established system or institution
As if even my own lexicon doesn’t want me to acknowledge what’s possible
I keep confusing it with submission
Every Friday
There’s an hour come 6
That I call the loneliest
When the work is done and the sun has set
Emptiness begins to settle
Yearning for witness
Because what’s it all worth if you don’t have someone to share dinner with
Thich Nhat Hanh’s mantra
Comes to mind
Darling, I am here for you.
Every Saturday
Farm share, compost drop-off ritual
The cycle continues
Receive the food and give the leftovers to the soil
And after,
Maybe I meet a stranger looking for love
And my job is to photograph their smile
Or maybe I meet mine
Journaling in a nearby cafe
Every Sunday
Church of every kind
Chickens lay eggs
Cracked yoke for bellies
Broken shells for compost
Bees pollinate
Flowers bloom somewhere in secrecy
Snow quiets city streets
Sex happens between, above, and no where near the sheets
Dogs we call our own snore soothingly
Fuzzy cacti grows old seemingly unchanged
Cedar pines make their way into burning candles
Record players make music from 1969
Gospel choir preaches
Dancing becomes a sermon
And I wonder…
How many times do we wake up not grateful?
Do we go to bed angry?
Do we stay disappointed?
Do we build resentments?
Do we foster disconnection?
Do we check our phones for updates?
I can’t stop thinking about the last line of the apocalyptic movie, “Don’t Look Up”, spoken by Leonardo DiCaprio after sharing gratitudes at the dinner table before the comet hits;
“We really did have everything.”
And don’t we. When is there a day not imperfect yet perfect to cry.
Photo: Marusya Kazakova by alison lee Photography