I’m sorry to say that humankind’s cruelty got me down yesterday. Last night I couldn’t sleep thinking about it, crying over it, wanting out of this world, of this being human.
Then the sun rose, and I read about more cruelty in the paper and cried some more as I walked the hills. Clouds hovered low over the valley, filling it with a blanket of white as the misty mountains rose above it, soothing and cleansing my heart.
I came home, turned on classical music, and ate a bowl of cereal while listening to Bach.
I will soldier on, for that’s what we have always done. The Book of Genesis, written and compiled nearly three, perhaps four thousand years ago, is full of stories about the cruelty of humankind. We have always been thus. This violence is nothing new. I had hoped we were past all that, but we are not. And so, I accept my fate as a flawed human being and continue to rely on God’s love and guidance, for without it, we, I, are/am utterly lost.
Is that what this world is for—a proving ground over which we must rise like mountain peaks above the mist that clouds our senses, our hearts, our highest selves?
I pray for strength, guidance, acceptance, love, and compassion. I pray for hope. I pray for peace. I pray.
The moment we ask for her, see her, converse with her, love her-- she gracefully rises up against all her ropes, and they burst open whilst the pins fly in all directions With much love, some levity, and certainly deep longing, together let us all sit up too, let us bust through all the ropes and make all the pins fly too-- untying ourselves as we also untie the Strong Woman. `````````````````` May it be deeply for you. May it be so for me, also. May it be so for all of use, ever. --Clarissa Pinkola Estés