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Letter from November 10
Joanna Macy
November 10, 2004
Dear People,
Like very many of you, I worked hard on the campaign, hoping
against hope that we could spare our country, our world, any
more of the Bush regime. The shock, grief, and dread that
followed have been so great, I could barely speak. I gave
myself a week of mourning.
Words still come hard. The outpouring of messages from colleagues
in the work stir my heart and I want to respond. But I cannot
yet bring myself to produce words of wisdom or analyses of
what Bush's "victory" means for the Great Turning.
If we were together, I would try to do neither of those. I
would sit with you and be guided by the Work That Reconnects.
So that's what I'll do now. Even though we're physically apart,
I'll just imagine you here and move through the spiral of
the work.
Okay. Start with gratitude. I am thankful for the sun this
morning and the smell of wet soil; for Fran's smile and Julien's
laughter. Praise be for the Dharma and the morning sit at
Sangha House and for my brother-and-sister Shambhala warriors
around the world, I feel them as close as breathing. Oh, am
I ever grateful for the journalists who report what's really
happening--whether it's discovery of widespread voter fraud,
or the brutal, catastrophic events in Iraq. A deep thanks
to my friend Dahr Jamail, an unimbedded reporter in Baghdad,
who's risking his life to inform us daily via web (http://dahrjamil.com/weblog/archives/dispatches)
and Pacifica radio.
Now, I feel strong enough to enter the next stage on the
spiral. To express my pain for the world. If we were sitting
together in the Truth Mandala, I'd hold the stone and speak
my fears of political repression under Ashcroft. I'd pick
up the dead leaves and cry, thinking of the drilling and clearcutting
to come, and the ravaged, poisoned Earth. I'd grab the stick
to spit out my rage at what's happened to America, my fury
at Karl Rove, my anger at Kerry for conceding before the votes
were counted. Right now my hands cradle the empty bowl; I
let it be okay at this moment to acknowledge a sense of futility.
To forgive my own witlessness. To rest in not knowing.
Moving around the spiral we come to Seeing with Fresh Eyes.
Having befriended my pain for the world, I can see once again
its larger meaning. That I belong to it all, inseparably.
That it lives and flows through me, as it does through every
atom and tree. And, given the inestimable gift of self-reflexive
consciousness, I can choose how I take part in the great holographic
dance. As Dennis Kucinich said to us Saturday, "We didn't
choose our president; but we each can be president of our
own lives--and that's where true change happens."
When I remember this part of the spiral of our work, when
I recall the Councils of All Beings and the conversations
we enacted with the seventh generation, defeatism drops away.
I realize again how lucky I am to be living in this dark time,
so that I can navigate it boldly for the sake of ocean and
wild goose and all the future beings.
Once again the spiral we trace culminates in the Going Forth.
And I'm ready to admit the sense I have, as you surely do
too, of an electric realization stirring: that the revolution
is ours to make. The failed electoral campaign succeeded in
showing us how many we are, and how ready and glad we are
to work. The Great Turning will never be made by the corporations
or the political parties it funds. It is being made by us--in
every step we take to protect Earth and honor life. Have there
ever been so many opportunities to act? They're all interlinked,
so just choose one and run with it. And don't ever try to
do it alone.
Thanks for the company. I'm so glad we walk this road together.
Joanna
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