image from natures-blessings.org
"Mother Earth feels your pain.
Let her feel your joy, too."
quote by my friend, Valerie Langer,
environmental activist
When you watch,
on your tv screen,
Long Island and New Jersey
being swept away,
when earthquakes
rumble off the west coast,
hurricanes sweep
the eastern seaboard,
and tsunami warning alarms
echo throughout your town
at midnight,
when you pass logging trucks
hour upon hour
carrying away all the trees
we need to breathe,
and they tell us
the ice and the tundra
at the North Pole
is melting,
when you put together
all the information
and come up with a reality
too frightening for words,
go ahead.
Feel the fear,
feel the terrible grief
that is guilt-based
at our human assault
on the planet,
our greed,
our ignoring of the needs
of future generations,
(our children and
our children's children).
Feel your frustration
at the multinationals'
Bottom Line,
which dictates
all the rest,
and of world leaders
who talk and talk
about the need
to address global warming,
yet who never legislate
the tough changes,
because re-election
matters most.
As you watch the icebergs
crash into the sea,
the polar bears drowning
and starving,
the displaced bears
and hungry wolves
being shot because
they came too near
to look for food
for their babies,
as you watch the sea
climb up over the banks
and drown the towns,
as you feel Mother Nature's
terrible dis-ease,
and hear the gray whale's
mournful song,
remember that Mother Earth
is thanking you
for having the strength
to carry your grief.
Know that you are doing
a service to mankind,
by helping to inform
the global consciousness,
by being aware and able to
see clearly what most
cannot bear
to understand.
Remember, too, that
no matter our fears,
we are, at this moment,
living on a planet
full of beauty,
mystery, creativity,
and wonder.
Be grateful for this gift.
Feel the joy of Now,
with all of its potential
for transformation,
for grassroots Change.
Enjoy the daily panorama
of visual beauty:
geese flying overhead
across a cerulean canvas,
sun glinting off a metal-hued sea,
babies' Buddha-smiles,
and our beautiful old round
Grandmother Moon.
Let the beat of your pulse
join the rhythm of the earth's
own heartbeat,
knowing we are part of,
and intricately connected to,
all of creation.
Our pain joins the pain of
all of the sea of humanity.
Just so, our joy
carries us forth into tomorrow
on a tide of hope we can never
afford to relinquish.
Be grateful for being alive
at this time of transition.
We were sent here because
we are strong enough
to bear it,
strong enough to ride
the tidal wave
that will one day wash
this planet clean
and allow it to,
perhaps,
begin again.
Rather bleak, kids, and we must hold onto hope, recognize the grief but also embody the joy of being alive, right now, on Planet Earth. I told my friend Chris about my grief over the recent events along the eastern seaboard, and she asked her friend Susan for some guidance in what to say to me. This poem was born out of both of those conversations, and embodies the positive message Susan sent to me through Chris. It definitely helped me to feel a little less helpless. To know that by loving the earth, we are doing something to help her.
