As we celebrate the holidays and look back within our lives and the distanced traveled, friends made and lives lost, may we reflect on the role we’ve played and its effects on those we love and the world that sustains us. See time not in minutes but in the many blessings that we do have, things we’ve done, people we love. It time to drop the superfluous, the politics surrounding us, set divisions aside, rancor to bed.
We’re all worn out by the pandemic and the country’s dishonesty with itself. Anger filled the streets rather than community, community begging for recognition and common cause. Yes, I believe in democracy rather than chaos, but too may subscribe to exterior forces to shape their actions rather than inner awareness. Inner awareness tells us that we are alike and the friends we need are a handshake away. Division is illusion.
Mary Farquar remarked that her co-worker had become distant, estranged and that was making the workplace uncomfortable. Then it became known she had gone to Washington for Jan. 6. Everyone was afraid to confront her about it, not really confront but just ask. What were her expectations? George thought it was Trump leading the lambs to slaughter. The true coward who watches from comfort without any real cognizance of the dangers self- created. He couldn’t imagine him riding a horse into battle like history’s great generals. It was all theater. Go kill Brutus.
The theater of Manchin and Sinema is the play that should have closed long ago. Dialog is reduced to garbled nonsense, and the maze of misinformation in general goes right along with the inability of people like them to grasp the seriousness of the moment. Why are we even talking about this?
It’s easy to be cynical and hard to believe in our better angels as I frequently say. The soldiers in the congressional trenches are digging for the buried ammunition that will have the power to topple the McCarthys on their way to the big prize. This is the real act. We hope that Santa will deliver the Pandora’s Box that clinches the legal end of what we’ve all known from the start. Of course nabbing the prize may not do that much since the rabble have their eyes closed and march to the preset of subconsciously programmed robotics.
Why should Christmas be freighted with unholy spectacle undeserving of the people it effects most dearly? What about the unvaccinated supporters who make themselves collateral damage while their eyes are closed? Do they deserve our compassion? Yes they do. Blindness here is a metaphorical condition. All who believe in spirit know there is no difference between one person and another. But the material world is dense and it is hard to see. We are in the wilderness groping our way with the best knowledge and experience we have to somehow save ourselves from ourselves and create a path out.
The battle with technology is a battle already lost. Its path is technocracy and moral wisdoms are subsumed with the idea that soon our lives will be well modulated, documented, and prescribed. It promises a dull life for many and a luminous life for others. Spirit is superfluous in the regulated world. Techies practicing Zen is a sort of irony. Technology may be producing an environment similar, though its catapulted Elon Musk into outer space. Make him pay taxes like the rest of us. We’re stuck here on earth paying his bill. Markie Zuck still whines he’s unfairly targeted, and the answer of course is more technology.
Don’t get me wrong. We can no longer function without it and it’s been a big Christmas in many ways. But where are the big multi-billionaires ponying up for real climate change progress. Right now no amount is enough. We face Republican stupidity, Democratic incrementalism, and right wing denial. The richest men in the world could actually change it all, so much is doable. We have the answers! Kicking butt on climate change is the best present we could give ourselves for Christmas. Look at Kentucky. Send anything you can. Fires will be raging, floods will be flowing, winds will be blowing — that’s the future.
So all this said, we know who we are and we know what we can be. We have limitless powers and limitless ability to act from love and not just expediency. Let’s gather and sing together and dance and hug our brothers who need it most. May The Prince of Peace fill our hearts. Merry Christmas to all.
Alan Harris, formerly of Noble Feast Catering, lives with his wife, Jane, in Shelburne Falls and works on publishing his first novel, “The Preposterous Tale of Dan and Lee.”