Saturday, August 20, 2011

Lantern in a Dark Night

Amazing how Life keeps flowing and pulsing, being no respecter of persons. Whether a Summer garden bursting and pulsing or a desert baking and parching, for those enjoying a picnic at the beach or those wasting from malnutrition, wanting but some food and water, Life doesn't stop. It simply is, almost mocking humans' illusion of control.

Eventually, everything shall be overturned in the great compost heap of existence, nurturing new life that follows. But this doesn't let us off the hook for trying to right the wrongs in this world,quite the contrary. We should be so aware of this life's finite quality, that we love it that much more and wish to make it better for others and all Creation. 

What's so sad is that many in the so-called First World suffer from Cranial-Recto Syndrome, which prevents them from seeing the light, and, hence, the suffering of others. These folks truly think life's parade is about them in their Mad-Hatter delusion.

Taking a step back and simply listening and looking at the politicos, religious leaders, and various and sundry folks, no longer floors me like it once did. Now all I can do is shake my head, pitying them. It doesn't matter that it's heterosexism or racism, blaming the homeless for their lot in life or women for getting raped, hating atheists or Christians, Jews or Muslims, not to mention Church leaders defrocking priests who stand for justice: hatred of the others so often seems to be the world's oldest profession.

But it needn't be. We need to become aflame with love, not the saccharinized version so prevalent today among the various self-aggrandizing modes of "spirituality" but rather the love that comes with great cost and sacrifice. It's up to each of us to plumb to the depths of our souls, opening ourselves to penetrating transformation at the hands of the Beloved, whether or not we are religious. 

The more of us who do, who are so transfigured, can change the world. I don't know about you, but the God of my being does not do Cecil B. DeMille productions, but, rather, works so silently among and through us, lighting each heart as a lantern in the dark night.

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