The days continue to shorten; nights continue to lengthen. By three the light is failing; the closure of the day feels imminent. The encroaching darkness signals a need to hurry, or a capitulation to putting things off to another day.
It helps me to think of winter as a time for restoration and preparation — the plants and animals protect themselves from hunger and cold by burrowing, sleeping, slowing even breath and heartbeats. The quiet dark is where a seed sits until spring rain and sun-warmed soil calls forth its life force and growth begins.
I am not so successful at the resting, restorative part. I continue to tell the beads of my worries — for family, for myself, for peoples around the world facing war or climate crisis, for the planet herself. I envy those who grew up in a snowy place and relish cold outdoor sports as an energizing response to winter’s arrival. I feel the urge to retreat, but not always restfully. It is hard to rest in the face of calamity.
We were still adjusting to the time change when the mid-term elections arrived. Darkness seemed to be pressing in on all sides with hateful rhetoric, dire predictions of democracy’s collapse, threats of vigilante action.
With the morning light, however, another story began to be revealed. Democracy prevailed — voters pushed back against many of the most egregiously outrageous candidates or ballot initiatives. Voters made their determination to uphold standards of truth and decency clear with results in the Senate, various state houses, secretaries of state and referenda. The House of Representatives shifted rightward, however, with radical factions already vying for power, reducing prospects for bipartisan action on urgent needs. There are only months before the 2024 campaign will swamp any congressional action. The elections provided a breather, but only briefly.
How will we use this respite from the storms of campaign season?
The tendency may be to curl up and hibernate. But signs are that right now is a liminal moment — a doorway or threshold through which we can advance or retreat.
If nothing else, this past year revealed the need to begin a new era of action on multiple interrelated fronts: climate, democracy, world community and human rights. Not only what we do but how we do it needs deep revision. Our priorities must be reoriented and redefined; our practices revised; our vision completely refreshed.
The swift actions we need to take on climate and democracy must be separated from the usual driving forces of our economy — greed and power. No longer can we allow the false expediencies of cheap labor or externalities such as pollution from mining, transport and manufacturing to dominate our actions. Certainly we should not as a nation invest in such behavior.
The repair to community civility must eschew bullying or domineering, and promote generosity and tolerance. We need to redefine “neighbor” to include all people (one species), other species of plants and animals and even land formations. A simple question, but one that is difficult to answer, should guide our civic decisions for the next five years: What is the best for the whole? When facing uncertainty, the simpler answers (somewhat like the physician’s oath — Do No Harm) may serve best. If siting solar panels, don’t damage farm land or forests; use rooftops or other already disturbed lands. If reducing carbon, use the tried and true, not expensive or untested exotic technologies. If solving one problem, don’t knowingly or inattentively create another.
Too futuristic? Well, we are living the future that we shaped by our actions in the recent past. The future is now. Tomorrow is today. What we do today is foretelling the future we must live tomorrow.
What if we are the seeds, seeds of change, resting in the chilly soils of this winter? What if it is our job to strip away the husks of the seeds— the political posturing and power mongering — to let the change sprout? If we focus on the deepest needs of our planet and, therefore all of us from humans to foxes to canaries to octopuses, we will find the heart of the matter. All our concerns are interconnected so there is no right answer to where to add your own effort. But our combined efforts are the key to a future shared spring of possibility.
So, rest well, my friends. Just not for too long.
Judy Wagner lives in Northfield.