Somewhere along the line, you lost sight of why you were running.
When you began, it was a pleasant morning, walking with friends over hilltops and in the shadows of trees that filled the valleys. There was enough - berries on the bushes, water in the streams, sunshine on your skin (no burning, just vitamin D), shade when it got too hot, warmth at night around the fire as you went to sleep with close friends. The world was an adventure with no goal other than to explore. There were mysteries, beautiful things to admire, some scary moments when you heard unidentified rustling in the bushes during the darkness of a new moon. You were following the river, perhaps finding your way to the sea but feeling alright if you didn't make it. The reason you were walking was to walk, to enjoy the journey and have a good time with the others along the way.
It's difficult to remember when things changed. They happen so incrementally, and our brains aren't wired to remember all the details of the past. Somewhere along the line, we started to walk a little further each day, even though we were sufficiently tired already. We felt that if we went that extra mile, we'd have a little extra space from the increasing number of our fellow pilgrims. Where all these other travelers came from is not clear, but with each passing season we saw our numbers grow. The grass was a little more trampled each day from those who had walked before. The streams seemed to hold less water, like someone was drawing more of it off up in the hills. There were fewer trees to give us shade or with which to build shelter. Much of the low-hanging fruit was gone already, and some of the less ripe ones were missing as well. The feeling of scarcity began to creep into our minds and edge out the feelings of sufficiency and abundance that had marked the beginning of our journey.
Nowadays, we often run flat out for fear of being left behind. Our story is that we'll catch only the scraps or sometimes nothing at all if we don't stay ahead of the pack. All the good things - well, we've got to be faster, smarter, and sometimes a little more ruthless to earn access to them. We'd love to slow down again and take time to talk with the others on the path, but now it seems that there isn't enough time in the day to stay ahead and still connect with others. We've got to cover a lot of ground, gather the resources necessary to take care of ourselves and our family, and when we're done with that well, frankly, we're plumb tuckered out. We know that tomorrow will bring more and we've got to be thinking about how to cover more ground and outpace the rest.
So many days, we wish we didn't have to run this hard. The sun is pretty hot now that there are fewer trees. The streams with enough water are sparse in this landscape. The days when we can sit and listen to the cool, nourishing rain seem fewer and further between. When we look at those who can't keep up, we're afraid that we'll end up like them - disenfranchised, lacking access to the basic means of sustenance, not having a voice in the group. The promise of abundance seems a little further from our grasp each day, but if we run faster and faster, and learn to endure the discomfort and strain, we hope to close that gap, for ourselves at least. Each day we run more, and eventually we lose sight of the walk completely and can't remember anything other than the running.
And then, every once in a while, we wake up. We lay in bed and hear the breeze in the leaves or the soft silence of snow. Our muscles are weary from being clenched. We flex our toes and rub our hamstrings. We massage our palms and fingers that ache from grasping. For a precious while, we see the race for what it is. We see it as just one story - so real, so scary with the overarching feeling of competition and scarcity, but just a story nonetheless. How did we get lost so deeply in that story? How did the race become an all-encompassing reality? How did we lose sight of different ways of being?
There are so many ways of being in the world, but all too often we get wrapped up in the feeling of crisis and scarcity that seem to permeate our existence as humans in the modern world. This is not an unreasonable response. We're in the deepest ecological crisis that the world has have ever seen, with the possible exception of a catastrophic meteor impact millenia ago. There are increasing numbers of humans while at the same time we continue to strip our resources and lose them forever.
I often think that the greatest challenge of our generation is how to live in a time of deep man-made crisis. How do we deal with the catastrophe? Do we ram whaling ships? Do we engage in political debate at international meetings? Do we just run the race a little harder than everyone else so as to get ahead, and hope that everything will somehow miraculously turn out OK?
All I can offer is my own imperfect, personal strategy. I'm trying to stay calm but aware. I want to be able to embrace facts, as best we can discern them, and avoid generating a false sense of security by burying my head in the (tar) sand. I want to act with efficacy and also keep in mind a sense of scale about what I can undertake while maintaining a sense of balance. I want to remember that we're all doing the best we can, and accept that this may not be sufficient to steer ourselves out of this crisis that we're in. I want to have good times with friends, and help us all relax while we navigate life in the modern world. I want to keep myself honest about what messages I'm sending out to those around me through my words and actions.
I know that the only way to avert more oil catastrophes like the one in the Gulf right now is to stop demanding, with my consumer dollars, that we keep drilling for oil. I know that the only way to end the endless war is to speak and live for peace and tolerance. I know that the only way to decrease the amount of plastic trash floating around our oceans is to stop using them. I know that the only way to promote a slower, more reflective society is to continue making space in my life for reflection and calm. I know that turning to dogma of any kind (political, religious, etc) is just placing myself in a box, and I think we want to avoid that. I want to be thoughtful and question everything, while still waking up in the morning and going forward in my life.
All this is difficult, but not impossible. I know that you are with me, and I am with you. I take heart in your courage, and you can do so in mine. I'm glad to help carry your burden when you are feeling weak, and I'll be glad for a hand up from you when I stumble. I like the different flavors of life that we offer each other, and I delight in the new synergies that we create. Let's conspire to live well...
