It is raining. Buckets. Literally. The weather and my mood are similar. I’m as soggy as the deck, as droopy as the water sodden leaves, and all grey like the sky. Yes indeed, one and the same, me and the weather. Okay, that’s all wrong. Rain is cleansing, nurturing, healing. It refreshes the land, washes away dust and grime, and leaves behind a sweet smelling, shiny place. Rain is important, vital. Ask anyone living in drought. So, I shouldn’t be comparing my sadness to Ma Nature whose just doing her thing. I, on the other hand, am not doing my thang. If I was, surely I’d be happy. Instead, I’m grumpy, short tempered and glum. Blah. What to do?
First, I probably need to rant so here’s a disclaimer. The following views and opinions expressed are, as always, mine. If you need to avert your eyes, do so now.
I am sick to death of old fogies who cannot see anything good in the world around them – the world they helped create – I might add. They moan about a lack of money despite healthy pensions, mortgage free properties, and tax-free year-ends. The only worthwhile time on this planet, they contend, was some obscure year of their arbitrary choosing from long ago; the only decent music, tunes of their youth. They languish over the destruction of an idyllic past as progress shifts a landscape scarred by war. They espouse, ad nauseam, how everyone is out to get them while failing to notice they call out everyone with their aggressive attitudes. They hold that people with money are scoundrels, influential types are self-serving, and austerity is the only way forward, except for them, of course. Green initiatives are a waste of their time being schemes dreamt up by hippie tree hugger types who don’t want to work. They, therefore, take no responsibility for the state of the planet and continue to pollute while blaming any handy mega-corp for global warming. I could go on, but will not.
Whew, that’s better, except no, it’s not. My stomach is rolling and my jaw is clenched. I don’t feel relieved. I am angry and overwhelmed by my generation’s duplicitous, myopic gaze. Like Pontius Pilate, we wash our hands in self-righteous denial. Culpability is a judicial term applicable only in a courtroom. Wow. I am so sorry, yes, filled with sorrow, for fuelling this bunch of bile spitting sad sacks. Can we find our way back to harmony from our current state of fragmentation? Certainly.
All of this ugly I’m spewing has, of course, nothing to do with a particular person or group of people – not really. It’s about me. My projections merely mirror my own frustrations. Today, I’m downcast because I know that at one time or another, I’ve been the person the rant is directed at. Today, I am reacting to my own inadequacies. Hell, it can be so much easier to point fingers and cast dispersion instead of taking responsibility. Easier, but not better. I kind of want ‘better’.
So, today, I’m the observer. Not a particularly calm watcher because my guts are churning, but nevertheless, I’m detached enough to survey the ensuing chaos. I’m allowing the feelings – and trust me when I tell you they are far from pleasant – to have their day. Why would I do such a thing? Because I’ve a lesson to learn from it all, which is…?
If I truly desire harmony, I must be the harmony I desire.
So there’s my wish. Harmony. And what a beautiful word it is! “The quality of forming a pleasing and consistent whole… being in concord.” Let’s imagine that, one big harmonious jumble. So, all I need to do is sing my notes with all the passion, zest, and care I can muster. Betcha in no time, I’ll be making a joyful noise. Care to join me? Do, re, mi!