I don’t have the desire to be loud. To lead any charges. To rally or to bolster. To cheer up or to sober. I have had pain for this world and with this world in the pit of my stomach…twisting and burning…for as long as I can remember. I’ve missed a lot of parties because I couldn’t get down from the treetops – on lookout duty. And I couldn’t stop fretting as I watched the Wetiko devouring and devouring, getting closer and closer, eating our life support systems, burning sacred agreements, while we danced to the tune of ‘business as usual’, feeling safe enough for now, at least. We don’t fear or respond to what we don’t understand. We just don’t notice that things are bad or falling apart if we weren’t taught that it was our job to take care of them. You can’t see what you’re not looking for. And for the majority of us (based on my belief in human goodness) it’s not because we are bad or privileged or mean or ignorant or spoiled or broken or wanting to hurt or be hurt, it is because we are anesthetized, our wings clipped, our parameters for happiness narrowed down to the scope of consumer capitalist culture.
We are but fragments of who we are. Stunted beauties. We have been ‘civilized’ away from our innate navigational and effective wildness, our sacred responsibilities, our ability to both lead ourselves and choose good leaders – initiated leaders. Civilization is a peculiar paradox in this sense – a desire for organization, consolidation, uniformity, domination, advancement, convenience, comfort, and control over the chaos we stumbled into as human beings born somehow on earth.
It was cold here, and sometimes too hot here. And it was full of beautiful animals, but sometimes the animals killed us. And there was clean water here, but sometimes there was drought. And there was love among us, but sometimes there were disputes. And there was food in forests, in deserts, in oceans here, but sometimes there was famine or scarcity. And there were babies born as if by magic, and then…there was death! Oh death, that we made our enemy for it wounded us so…and often…so often, and so beyond us.
We never have had it easy and we never will. We have always been asked to respond and do our best to survive – to find intelligent and community based ways to co-thrive in this bewildering earth place. Life’s mandate is perhaps so much simpler than we have chosen to make it. I understand the desire for growth, discovery, and an understanding of the universe beyond this closed system. And yet, as we exert control and dominate living systems, as we exploit and extract, and we manufacture and concentrate more and more power, the tables turn, and all control begins to be taken away again. The ouroborus keeps eating.
One way or another, we get whittled down to the most basic Life mandate once again: Here you are, things are hard, work together to survive and thrive, enjoy what is available, be smart with your resources and collective organization of such. Enjoy creation without causing harm.
And Life’s more snide remarks: Fly to the moon if you want. Fly to Mars if you want. Heck, you can shoot yourselves across the universe if you want! But I wonder, if you can develop the technology that enables you to do this without destroying yourself in the process? I wonder if you will desire to get there, before you have accepted the task and mastered the profound art of being HERE first?
There is a monster under each of our privileged beds. A quiet wetiko. It doesn’t jump out and declare itself so, but hides in plain site. We are uneasy within (especially us sensitive types) – we can feel something in the room with us, but since no harm has come, not even a bump in the night, we go to sleep anyway in dangerous proximity. We both know it and don’t know it. We wake up uneasy every morning, but just can’t seem to name it. And so the quiet monster just stays there drinking the oxygen in the room. Stealing the food from the cupboard while we’re sleeping. Pulling thread after thread out of our blankets unnoticed. And then one day we can’t breathe anymore. We can’t eat. We can’t stay warm. And all along we had the power to shoo the monster away, we just…didn’t see it for what it was – a malignancy in benign clothing.
Can you feel it? Doesn’t something inside you want to cast an invisible and insidious and oh-so-heavy weight off of you, and simultaneously call something empowering and wakeful to you in its place? Don’t you feel the restlessness and stomach punch of disempowerment? The queasiness of living, contracted, forced to agree to disagree, and under oath to a million blatant, harmful lies? The roiling, boiling, burning, low grade insanity of a newsfeed feed feed feeding you the evidence of a thousands broken sacred agreements, and the senseless suffering and death for profit, and power over over over, squash squash squashing beauty and sovereignty in the children of earth?
And do you not also feel the curling of your fingers, and twisting of your guts, as you watch living systems breaking apart? The righteous rage building inside you like a dammed up river from the mountaintop of your deepest knowing, while your entrained politeness and good behaviour blocks it from release at every turn…and yet you know it waits for you to SCREAM it open?!
Do you feel this?
Pay attention now. To the casting off and the calling in. There are decisions to be made. There are wetikos within to be exposed and cast out from under the intimacy of our neatly made beds. In this time of separation, there is the power of community and togetherness and right relationship to consider with all our discombobulated hearts. There is RAGE to be accessed – rage that will inform you, and heal you, and empower you, and transform you into the fully present, integrated and wild being of your sacred dreaming. The one you follow when no one is looking. The one who always leads you to hidden springs, through impossible valleys, and into the land of revivification.
Isn’t life itself one of those? Should we not follow miracle back to miracle then?
Sometimes you can see more at a distance. Take the distance to examine closely.
Look under your bed. I certainly hope we never return to such a crooked, ugly normal. I hope we venture forward into a more beautiful world.