#WASF #We.Are.Still.Here

In case you didn't know, #WASF stands for We Are So Fucked. (the # is a "hashtag.")

And we sure are. Hell, I don't give us any more than another 5 years, this troubled species of ours. (I'd say less than 5 is possible. Climate chaos is ripping up the ground under our feet as far as whatever we might ever have thought about "normal," hmmmm? If you can't grow food, you can't eat. Doesn't look overly promising... & hey. It isn't even "just" climate change we're dealing with...)

But...

#We.Are.Still.Here!

Me, I had a rough-ish week. Details not important.

There's one's "personal" life, & there's what's going on in the wider world. Forest fires, Donald Trump, the Harvey Weinstein drama. 10 kinds of nuclear nonsense (at least).

The world is reeling from post-hurricane impacts (in the U.S.) - & droughts & floods elsewhere. &, as I say, forest fires. (Well, wars & violence in many parts of the world, lots of it U.S.-inspired; let's not forget that.)

Some of us are reeling in our personal lives, for one reason or another.

(btw, I am not saying these things are "separate" - 'cos I don't really think they are.)

I just think we must look for the bits of light where we can find them ... no?

Rose Bush or Dead Dog? So I was watching a speech by this guy talking at a recent conference on The Truth About Cancer. (Yeah, what a mind-blower!)

& he tells this anecdote: a young girl is devastated because her beloved dog has just died. Her grandfather tells her "You need to look out the other window." 'cos outside the other window, a rose bush is blooming beautifully.

I liked this. I don't believe in living a rose-coloured glasses life. Hell, I've been an activist for more than 30 years. No illusions! I'm not Pollyanna, & I'm not a New Ager who thinks if we all focus on pretty thoughts, we'll make the world all pretty. Nor am I averse to really feeling my grief (at times, there is quite a bit of it).

But I remember this quote:

“When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one that has been opened for us.” – Helen Keller (1880-1968), American writer and lecturer

So. The morning was a wild roller coaster ride, after I'd had the thought to post this about being so f*cked (& still here).

Details not important.

Had to pull my car over onto a side street so I could make a phone call.

Was feeling like a limp dishrag, pretty much. It had really been a wild coupla days, you know?

I look out the car window, at a tree in someone's yard to my left, & I see a woodpecker.

Yay! I really love birds.

I keep watching.

So this woodpecker is busily backing its way down the tree; who ever saw a bird going backward?? Well, maybe you have, & maybe I even had! But it isn't something one sees every day. It was fun to watch...

Then I notice ... there's another woodpecker! There are 2 woodpeckers in the tree!

Then, OMG. I spot a 3rd one. There are 3 freaking woodpeckers in this tree!!

Well. That just really made my day.

(Sure, I suppose I am a cheap date. Easily amused. Works for me!)

 

We are really, really fucked. No one is more aware of that than I.

6 ways to Sunday. Maybe even 12.

 

But dammit all, we ARE still here.

We have to keep right on counting our blessings...

& looking for whatever light there is, coming through those cracks.

 

(In my opinion, we need to keep on making good use of ourselves, too. I don't think we're here just to make a cushy, pretty life for ourselves & our immediate loved ones. I think we owe the world some good works. Some elbow grease. You know? If we are capable of this. Some of us, of course, are too damaged to manage this. I get that.)

But you know, whatever.

I am grateful I'm still here. I'm still making use of myself.

 

onward ho.....

 

“What’s important is not what’s gone, but what remains.” ~ from the film ‘Home

“After you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, and so on – have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear – what remains? Nature remains. – Walt Whitman, poet (1819-1892)

“I do not want to talk about what you understand about this world. I want to know what you will do about it. I do not want to know what you hope. I want to know what you will work for. I do not want your sympathy for the needs of humanity. I want your muscle.” ~ Robert Fulghum

Nature Therapy.jpg