As we slide into the dark days, my color and light pictures seem more and more important to me, and I hope you do, too. They ground me, open me up, and help me feel joy.
I was reading one of my spiritual journals, this time from Joan Chittister. She is wise and precise and always makes me think. When I read her first sentence, I hesitated. Did I want to think of the death of everyone I know as I sat down to read? It was a good idea and helpful. It made me feel and helped teach me to heal.
“Remember that everyone you meet is dying, as are you. We do not have time enough for squabbling over the eminently forgettable. Nor does the planet have time to wait for us to develop a vision enough to maintain us. Reach out wherever you are to the people you know least as well as the people you know best. s Paul Rogat says, “We become human only in the company of other human beings.”
I realized in meditation that remembering that everyone I meet is dying, along with me, is not a morbid thought.
It is about empathy and forcing myself to think about others, even in meditation, when I often overthink myself. Why are we hating and fighting with one another when our time is so short?
Why do we send one another cruel and angry messages, trade lies, betray our values, and wallow in conspiracies? Do we have enough time in our dwindling lives to do that?
When I look at someone and remember that they or she is dying, my anger and resentment melt away, and I see the world differently.
I force myself to look at the news once each day, and today, I saw Donald Trump shocking a reporter by refusing to say he would wouldn’t try to wreck our democracy if he becomes President.
I felt pity for him, as had happened lately when I see the rage, hurt, and bitterness in his aging face.
Some people want to get better. Some people want to get even for the many hurts they feel and have felt. I know what I want.
Is this how Mr. Trump wishes to spend the rest of his remarkable life?
I hope not. Resurrection is possible for all of us. His face looks as if it is burning with anger. That can’t feel good. It hurts me to look at it. My response is to want to be different, to want to be better. It’s the most and the best I can do. I don’t care to hate anyone.
Raging is not how I want to spend the rest of my life.
I like the idea of our country needing a Spiritual Century. I believe it is coming. This is no way for us to live. Our leaders should be role models for the young. Do they have anyone to learn from? Liz Cheney comes to mind, she is a role model of mine.
Her new book Oath and Honor arrived today. It’s 400 pages long. I owe it to her to read it. But that will be hard and disheartening.
Anger is a cancer that nibbles on our souls. I was thinking today when I saw a video of Hassan leaving a Vermont hospital for rehabilitation of Mr. Trump or Mr. Musk taking some of their money and giving it to this extraordinary young man, who has a bullet embedded in his spine; he might have a good chance to walk again. In America, all that takes is a few million dollars.
Hassam’s story breaks my heart.
Whatever Mr. Trump or Mr. Musk has endured, Hassan is enduring worse. And there hasn’t been word of anger or grievance coming out of him.
For either of the wealthiest men in the world, paying for Hassan’s care would be like stopping at Burger King for a hamburger; they wouldn’t even feel it.
That might be a more meaningful way to spend some time rather than plotting unyielding revenge and seeking world domination or letting an ego destroy Twitter, now called X. It’s just a thought for the angels to pick up and spread around. Perhaps climate change will burn off some testosterone in our leaders.
I’ve wasted enough time on squabbling, grievance, and ambition. I am getting older. I am getting freer.
We will all be dead soon, as may also be true of our planet. It is a sin and a crime not to take advantage of that understanding. When I think of the people I know who will die – everyone I know – it makes me think of others; it nourishes the idea of empathy, the most admirable trait in the human repertoire.
It makes it impossible for me to be angry with anyone.
I don’t wish to argue with the people who are dying, which means I don’t want to argue at all. Finally, I’m getting there.
