The day, the wind, the sky, the journey
Why do I need to search for things to be grateful for, to be joyful of
And I
Feeling alone with my thoughts
Am humbled from skin to bone of the chilling notion, that,
Oh, there are lives so much more difficult, so much more trying
And yet why do we find our joyous gratitude in others suffering
As if their arms fixed in constant reaching towards hell have become our wings heavenward?
What if it was I trapped in the tumult of inglorious decent?
What if it was I strapped to the dynamite or trapped in a dead end job?
What if it was I crapped on by high society, poor and hungry, beyond needy?
But I am not!
And somehow it is in this notion of others pain that we may again find our liberation.
I saw a vision today.
The world was swept with a giant shift.
And though every thought and question beckons
"What will happen? Will the waters rise? Will it be a nuclear bomb? Will it be a giant comet?"
In my vision, it mattered not what had caused the trauma, but what our reaction was.
All over the earth there was fighting for resources that suddenly felt meaningless.
It was as if we had been digging for centuries only to find the buried treasure was dirt itself.
Or as if we had spent our whole lives accumulating wealth and possessions only to finally, in the end die of starvation.
Now here we were, stuck together on a planet, with piles of useless money and machines of war feeling like total idiots for wasting our time all those years.
As buildings collapsed before our eyes, as bridged tumbled and land masses shifted, as waters crashed over the levies that we had so unwittingly built to control the tides, we could do nothing but float around the waves like hollow porcelain dolls with painted smiles.
But in that precious moment, when all the structures that we had built became meaningless, when all the fences could do was entangle us and keep us trapped down in the water, bound to our old ways, when all the banks flooded like fish tanks, and all the lights flickered and were gone, in that dramatic silence when engines and sirens were suddenly replaced by swooshing wind, rattling earth, and thunderous water, we were finally free.
Freedom came first like a sinking stomach, like a pierced heart, like a lost life, like a dying caterpillar, like a victim, tossed into the melee of confusion and inhibition.
Freedom kicked our asses back to Noah and we were all looking for the great boat that was not there.
The great day of Judgement had come, and it was only us judging ourselves for wasting every precious moment that the world teetered on a fragile needle with pointless ambitions.
The wake up call was so dramatic and worldwide that it completely fractured every skull and every heart and every relationship on the planet.
In my vision, humanity triumphed.
In our evolutionary resilience we saw what we had been missing.
Heroes emerged from the slums and designed makeshift rafted and began dragging people aboard.
They were not selective.
Male, Female, Black, White, Deaf, Dumb, Elder, Child, Rich, Poor, Whoever.
Sure there were some who blamed the rich.
There were some who wanted to see them suffer.
But those with vile thoughts in that thick and strenuous thunder seemed to attract only pain and misery in the forms of signposts smacking them in the head, or a lost child, or a lungful of burning water.
In the end, judgement was placed on everyone from each one self unto itself.
All were forced into purity, were forced into cooperation, were forced into selfless community.
It was our only hope of survival.
And finally, as the walls crumbled and divisions of rich and poor disintegrated, there was nothing left but connection.
But then again, this vision, this apparition, pulls on the same paradoxical paradigm as before.
Why does it take so much pain and suffering to make the pearl?
How come we have to lose everything to gain our freedom?
Why can't we just be that selfless community now?
Must we continue to build war machines and money factories until it is too late?
Will we do it up until the very last day?
And when the Judgement comes, how will you see yourself?
And when that timeless swell stills the clocks of the world, how will your precious moments have been spent?
