This is not a religious question that I ask because each of us knows our faith in countless diversity. As well, centuries of wars are still being fought over religion in order to establish which of humankind GOD favors more. So this then leads me to ask: where is Satan and Lucifer, the leader of the fallen angels, in this holocaust? I imagine in good spirits as they observe the limitless human race move violently to declare and/or rescue our essence.
We humankind—at our nativity—receives a gift in the form of free will. This CHOICE allows us to decide on or prefer—and I presume not always reflect on—the impact our transactions may or will have on others. Then there is our own soul to consider: our genuine core. And always there is death and none are given their day or time or reason. So our life story is written in each second that we take a breath without knowing if after that another will follow.
Some say they have seen the after-life and I cannot deny their claims. For what is truth for one is not truth for another. Perhaps that is why we humankind continue to hate what we cannot believe and why wars are fought to force belief on others. We are, after all, human beings searching for truth; but my question is: Whose?
I know loss because growing up I attended the funerals of those who came before me. I touched their ice-cold hands, remembering how they felt to hold when warm. Women wept openly into their silk-thread hankies. Men stood close by to catch those faint of heart. And the true-life of the deceased became visible to each mourner that stood overlooking the coffin. “Pete, do you remember when she…” “Thelma, I remember him saying…” “Did you know she raised those kids…” “He knew how to tell a joke, better than…” “She never said much, so quiet…” “He is in a better place…” “The little tot just didn’t have…”
Death Then—regardless of the reason—was a coming together to acknowledge a future devoid of the essence of our loved one.
Death Today is shape-shifting to resentment and prejudice and religion and mistrust and illegal drugs and refugees and drunk drivers and ideologies and women’s rights and politics and greed and technology and all countries who kill their own and those who steal everything.
Mother Earth has experienced centuries of wars in the names of religion and greed so maybe I should not be so saddened by the shape-shifting we SEE now. However, I am because this war is to kill humankind without any rules of engagement.
So I ask: “Who will be left to touch that ice-cold hand
Each day I wake to a picture of Mother Earth that hangs on a wall across from my bed. Her colors are the shade of Salmon as they fight upstream waters to mate. Her blue shades are those of the oceans that buoy up thoughts of how deep does it go? The russet sands of windswept deserts. The white color is the home of Polar Bear and Penguins and the wonderment of what is beneath the ice flows.
There is another Picture of Mother Earth with the name Global Warming. Since I have not and will not be alive a millennium (1,000 years) I’ve not ventured into this quarrel. Yet, there are a few things I’ve noticed on the matter.
Since Mother Earth is a sort of Globe I would think that all governments would get on board with how to fix this critical dilemma that supposedly intends to obliterate humankind and any and all specie that consider Earth home. I do see wars—for whatever cause—high on lists. I see people wearing masks as winds share their caustic air. I see poverty that stores trash until the rains come and the rivers send it to the oceans. I see immigrants on capsized boats drowning in the seas and wonder how that changes the salt waters of Earth. And I see people with placards who hold responsible one another for The Cause.
Yet, each day that I glance over at my picture of Mother Earth I’m certain of one thing: Until humankind lives up to its name – HUMAN KIND – we the collective will miss treat one another. Then I get curious and wonder: How long will Mother Earth tolerate her errant children before she says ENOUGH!
July 22, 2010 I wasn’t thinking about it, but it arrived anyway. My consciousness welcomes it, I guess, because it’s here. But, I don’t welcome it as I do the huge white clusters atop the shrub, snowball viburnum, in my garden; reportedly around since the middle of the 16th Century.
Actually what arrived is even older than my shrub; it’s the word War! War: conflict, hostilities; combat; struggle; rivalry; competition… Wars have many monikers and there have been millions of them. War is a word that oversees heartbreak and the color red; the blood of mankind. There are wars within; wars between religions; wars for power; wars that wipe out generations of potential, and wars just for the hell-of-it. War disrupts the balance of life and death, soul mates ever meeting, an opportunity to detach from prejudice and to discern what is right from what is wrong. That’s all really. For what else is there to say?