I seem to be running from a post! The thinking within it is waking me in the darkness while the moon is now set; the emotions within the writing will not let me sleep.
Yet I run. I am afraid. Like Jonah perhaps, one of my favorite childhood Bible stories, am I running from a god of my own and fears of my own creating too?
I have no excuses. Are there ever really any that justify our not living fully? Not arriving into the belly of our whales with courage to face the darkness?
Is this darkness that is spread upon the land of my own creation? People losing their homes to Bankers we ourselves finance. Husbands and wives and sons and daughters and fathers and mothers returning from wars haunted by nightmares… if returning at all? Oceans choking in discarded plastic and human relatives on the Tree of Life dropping… falling from the grace of existence while the costs of health care and clean energy are debated….
And yet… and yet I am both afraid to look at this human world of my and our creation… and intrigued and fascinated with it. We are living, as one friend says, during the most exciting time of the movie: the climax. Will we make it? Will I make it? Will you?
I only know my heart must grow larger if it is to hold this world… and my own humanity. This wondrous power and mystery of choosing Life — is too grand to fit in the small container of a little self. Yet this being digested in the belly of my whale… is this where we all are?
Are digestion and composting and gestation and transformation really all that different?
What shall we give birth to then?
This night, I shall start with compassion, compassion for this self and Self I inhabit, and for all my relations, all here within as well.