I think of a million metaphors . . .
for this awakening out the window on the morning of the New Year 2022: rough & tumble beginnings, out with the old guard/patterns of white guy corporate America politic/I’m glad it wasn’t the roof. LOL. But I choose joy. It cracked me up this scene. Hilarity on the morning after the eve of supposed reflection and revelry. A celebration of endings. Of new beginnings. A segue way to hope. Creative abundance. An opening of the heart. Yes. Laughter is good for the soul. This satirical apocalyptic so safe but perhaps a wake-up call.
It was an experiment leaving the sun shade up through the fall. Through the high desert winds of a dry winter until the wet heavy white stuff caused the collapse. A new paradigm is coming. What do I bring to the table I wonder. I ask myself this every day as I attempt to communicate my angst or my knowing to others, but “what do I bring to the table?” –what do I offer to or as a solution.
To the revolution that is coming. To the magic.
Bless the curious and intrepid.
Change begins in nuance. In a slant of light.
Not the lines we draw to distance ourselves from the other or each other or even those we love.
I did not pull out my wallet to a young man who approached me in the parking lot last week. His hoodie drawn up because of the cold. “I slept outside last night” he said. “I’m sorry” I replied and continued to load groceries into the back of my car. “Hey lady with the subaru” he said. He was kind enough. I was on alert but mostly I didn’t want him to ask me anything. I wanted avoidance. I felt horrible then. I felt worse after. I really am sorry yet I did nothing to rectify his situation or my feelings. I tried to justify it in my mind. My not giving. My not wanting to pull out my wallet. THIS is living in fear my friends. THIS is the opportunity to offer assistance. To step up. It has bothered me for years this being approached by a man in the parking lot. The man with the sign in the median of the road where I stop at the red light. Awkward. What is that? It is truth. That sinking feeling in your gut is there because you have the power here. To be kind. I usually meet their eyes but to what end –as if this is someone else’s problem. The beggars on the sidewalk. Is it a scam? And really who cares –? We are taken by the banks and credit card companies every day. The downtown parking meters that buy us no time. We give easily to the white collar marketing institutions:
The auto insurance. The extra to cover electronics. The pharmaceutical industry that now rules the world. The food bank. The women’s shelter — but the man on the street. . .the one living in a cardboard box –well that is different. Can’t they get a job? Later I think how I could have offered him a blanket or the sleeping bag I keep in the back of my car or at the least pulled out a $20 bill. It is the holiday season after all. But in the spirit of generosity I did nothing. No wonder they scoff when someone offers them a dollar. What can it buy? Not even a cup of coffee.
It’s time to rewrite the story. One of equality and justice for all.
May we launch into New Year 2022 on the spirit of adventure. Set ourselves free from self-imposed barriers. Let us soar upon the wings of generosity and prosperity for all. May the light infuse our days. Love open our hearts. May we step outside fear into playful abundance and joy. Allow the anger bursting forth to wash us into a higher consciousness. Be well. Be brave. Yes. Pull up a chair and take a seat at the table of change.
Dip our toes into the well of wonderment and create a ripple towards a brave new world.