Morsels of Comfort
As this month of June - our halfway point in this remarkable and indescribable year - comes to a close, I find myself trying to be more empathetic and more thoughtful about what I choose to put into the world.
Sometimes I wonder if the comfort I find in nature matters to anyone but me right now.
But aren't we all trying to cling to something that shows us there is still light and hope amid so much negativity, misinformation, and rabid hate?
I can't help but think a lot about...
How some will hold so tight to myths to the detriment and harm of other's truths.
The "but not all _______ are bad" argument. The group(s) one chooses NOT insert in that sentence says a lot. It's an incomplete argument, very selectively applied.
If we will ever wake up to what we're doing to this Earth. I watched Dr. Jane Goodall's Masterclass on the environment and conservation. Call me naive, but I didn't know that cruise ships dump sewage in our oceans. Google it. U.S. law allows ships to dump raw sewage once they are three miles off-shore. What an apt metaphor for what we are doing to our only life-sustaining planet...except it isn't just a metaphor.
Why so many are flagellating the world with opinions but refuse to acknowledge or learn about perspectives that are not their own.
Why listening, as a skill and a core value, is a dusty relic on a shelf.
Many days I feel like Miss Etta (below) and yet I still look to nature for comfort.
The last few weeks have been filled with fledglings and their parents at the feeders and in the trees. Tufted Titmice, Eastern Bluebirds, House Sparrows, and the one young Black Vulture stomping around inside my old barn. By this time next month, he/she will be ready to venture into the world. A world that sees Vultures as representations of death and ugliness. I hope this baby's parents remain vigilant protectors and help their young one thrive. What he/she has to offer to is vitally important.
A male Downey Woodpecker made dozens of trips from the trees to feeders and back again, teaching his young ones and feeding them while they clung to the side of a Beech or White Oak tree.
Just as he leans in to care for them, I'm leaning in to do the things I can to help people in my life.
Because every offering, no matter how big or small, simply has to matter these days. Right? I think so.
I think every morsel of kindness, compassion, and empathy must morph into something bigger -- a nourishing energy we all need.
