Dear great, great…. grandchild of mine

My dear great, great …. grandchild of mine,

It is one week after the election of 2020, a painstakingly long drawn out week, in which we held our collective breath, waiting to see if our people would choose goodness as the light by which we are guided, and the end of which evoked a giant exhale of relief and jubilation, singing and dancing not only in our streets but around the world.

Already, the naysayers are pulling us back from joy into fear.

My child, there are those who will say I’m a dreamer (but I’m not the only one J ),  that I have swallowed the Kool-aid (I realize that both of these cultural references are likely irrelevant to you) , that I am naïve at best, blind at worst, but I understand that is their fear speaking.  A toxic negativity has so consumed the soul of our people that they can no longer hold onto Hope. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that it is we who have done the consumption- of negativity, fear, and cynicism, and so it has become who we are.

My child, it is not naïve to see Hope in the midst of chaos. It is strength. It takes strength to hold onto a center that Loves in the midst of Hate, that is hospitable in the midst of hostility, that sees goodness shining in the midst of darkness. I am drawn to that goodness as to a warm fire on a cold night. I see so many of us, carrying our candles , moving together toward that center of warmth, of goodness, of light. We can be the light that the darkness does not overcome.

Much has been made of the dog-whistles that are supposedly used by some to incite violence and and anger and fear—hidden messages that only those who understand the buzz words can hear because it is part of their doctrine. But those of us who are drawn to Hope also can hear our own whistles. We might instead call them temple bells, ringing us home. Words of Compassion and Hope, not being used to manipulate, but that rise authentically from the soul of a person, from who they are, speaking the Wisdom of the Ages, calling us to inhabit our authentic human goodness.

Since that celebration day, just 2 days ago, the fear of repercussion is growing, too. A cursory glance at the shifting news cycle reveals the shift in attention from Hope to Fear. My child, wisdom tells us that what we pay attention to grows, and to that place goes our heart. Our brains have evolved to look out for the scary and the scarcity, and perhaps there is wisdom in that too, for it helps us to survive. But, we must carry what we take in with our minds to our hearts, where it can be beheld by its Wisdom. We must learn to allow our hearts then to lead us, informing our minds to apply its deeper truths about who we are to be.

I know I must take care not overwhelm my human brain with the bombardment from too many screens that are too much for it to process. And so, I will practice restraint, take in small doses only what the antidote of my heart can neutralize. Perhaps in this way, I can teach my heart to grow stronger, to hold more, to Love more. I will continue to turn my focus to those stories that are spreading the good news of Compassion and Hope, so that these are the things that take root and grow. And I will return, again and again, to the small, the intimate, the immediate, in order to feel what is real, in order to feel the goodness of the earth and the goodness of humanity heart-to-heart.

All of this may seem foreign to you by the time you read this. Will there be screens in that future day? Will we have moved from the Information gatherers of our time to Wisdom gatherers, as our ancestors moved from hunters and gatherers, to planters and tenders? Who will we be?

I pray, my child, that we have tended our hearts well enough in this time that yours is a whole-hearted world. That we have cared enough to have left you a world, unravaged by fear and greed and hostility, but tended by a unified soul. That we see one another as sisters and brothers, that we have nurtured the earth with gratitude for all that she gives, that we have called ourselves Home.

With Hope,

Gaga

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