Sometimes the birds seem to fly in the wrong direction. A couple of weeks ago I heard geese overhead only to look up and see them flying south. A few days ago, however, I saw two large v-shaped flocks of 30 or more birds winging confidently north. We have had a few teasingly warmer days with zephyrus winds; then one of the larger storms of the winter moved in.
It’s that time of year when the light entices hope to come out of its winter den; then blustery gray clouds overtake and obscure the hinted warmth. The dark tree branches cross delicately against the brightening sky like lace — no, that’s not right. Lace is similarly intricate and beautiful, but it is inert. This time of year the branch tips are pulsing with impending bud-burst. It may be a ways off, but the potential is there, felt if not yet seen. It’s easy to dismiss it all as illusory and feel we are sliding back toward winter.
The world seems to be flying the wrong way, too. We are entering a season, hopefully only a season, of confusion. Our goals are going to get mixed up with our fears; ends could get confused with means; indignities may feel like tragedies; small cuts could prove to be fatally septic. Here are two examples. To stop global disaster, we need solar in countless new locations. But we don’t need solar displacing forests or covering croplands that are crucial to carbon capture and food for survival. When we challenge poorly sited and overly large projects we must be skillful not to indict solar (despite its flaws) but the structure of the system of financial subsidies that entices corporations to do what they do best — move in for the money.
And take war. At a moment when we face the shock of the worst disruption of the shaky post-World War II “peace” in 75 years, there are voices turning things upside down — calling intense ally-uniting diplomacy “weak” or labeling bald-faced aggression “genius.” We need to stay focused on the fundamental truth that war is a wasteful failure.
In a dozen other areas we are assaulted by circular winds interfering with our navigation. What we need is a “True North” compass in these dizzying times.
What is true north for me?
■Respect for the inherent worth and dignity of every person, no matter what. (Not always easy)
■Democracy — one citizen, one vote with as little difficulty as possible.
■Fair share — every person and corporation should pay a fair share of taxes to support the things that are too big or costly for individuals to do alone.
■Public education — help people learn to learn; support inquiry; face the difficult and challenging; equip with tools for solving problems and thriving.
■Treasure the living Earth — we owe our lives to our planet, so we should act like it.
■Health care for all.
■Community and family — aren’t they connected? Life and heart-sustaining connections help us see the needs of the whole as equivalent to our individual needs.
■War is stupid. Enough said.
We can add to the list or debate the details of how or when, but the important thing is to know where we are trying to go.
After the geese got me working on this piece and I was nearly done, I came across a statement in “Poet Warrior,” a second memoir from Joy Harjo, our national poet laureate (the first Native American and one of two to serve three appointments). She writes she was told by ancestors: “These times were predicted, a time in which the birds would be confused about which direction to fly to migrate, a time in which the sun would darken with pollution, a time in which there would be confusion and famine. In these kinds of times, we are in great danger of forgetting our original teachings, the nature of the world we share and what it requires of us. In this world of forgetfulness … you will forget how to nourish the connection between humans, plants, animals, and the elements, a connection needed to make food for your mind, heart, body, and spirit. You were born of a generation that promised to help remember … You came in together to make change.”
If we are to survive this season of disorientation, with its intentional distraction, misdirection and uncertainty, not to mention Covid exhaustion and climate fears, we need to find our true north and fly there fast.
Judy Wagner lives in Northfield.