My laptop streamed Michele Obama’s speech live from atop our commode while Terry and I gave our son a bath. Its was a moment of epic first lady power, I don’t know the last time I saw even the most polished politician raise the roof like that. Bubbles and FLOTUS-mania saturated the night.
The buzz about the Obama/Romney election cycle has been electric since the Democratic National Convention. I couldn’t give myself over completely to the revery, as the speeches and days rolled on I felt the absence of the Earth in almost everything that was said. Could it be my spiritual practice is taking me so far outside the mainstream I just can’t relate to the rhetoric? Even Tadg’s best fish impression couldn’t push my blues away.
Here’s the place in this blog post when I’m supposed to tell you that I looked at my son and wondered what his future would be like. You get moved and we all feel somber for a while and then go on with our day. Funny thing is, its not my son I’m worried about.
This is the last presidential election cycle in which the earth will not be the first, second and last issue on everyone’s mind. Thats what RNC and DNC convinced me of this week. The feeling of Hope just did not ring true.
I think the next four years will bring the reality of global warming so deeply into our lives we will not be able to turn away from it even for a moment. Not for just a few of us, but all of us who call ourselves Americans. I feel in my bones that this is the last presidential election where celebrities can speak to empty chairs, and energy sources like coal and oil can be spoken of with gleeful abandon while rock anthems surge. The Earth will make room for herself whether we like it or not.
I’ve come to see my journeys as a way of moving within the spirit of the Earth more freely, I’ve even been thinking of the spirit world as her consciousness. We are indivisible from her in every way. It may ultimately turn out to be just been about her and not us at all.
I know my sons future will be tough in many ways, but he will mature amidst great change. For him, change will be the norm, for most of us, change will feel like a rock wall. The conventions and all their hype only brought into clear focus the shock wave of wake up calls heading our way. Like a tsunami, wave after wave, each one building on the last, pushing deeper into our daily lives, I fear change will break some of us, but not the young.
So what about Hope (thats Hope with a big, presidential “H”)? I’ve come to understand that we are all held in her, no matter what is happening. Is she held by something greater? Perhaps, I imagine we’ll all find out one way or another. For now I’m focusing on resting with her, working with her, learning to bend for her. My Hope is derived from the power of her song, the inescapable magic of her presence. We are always home when we are with her. My son knows this best of all. He practices with his amphibious self whenever he can.