I’m back. I was hiding out in my underground bunker watching reruns of the Facts of Life waiting for the world to blow up. Actually that’s not true. I was at the Grand Canyon yesterday because if the world did end I’d rather be taken out there, one of the greatest natural wonders in human history, than at the local mall.
The world isn’t ending. It’s changing a lot. I don’t need a year’s worth of food and 42′ plasma screen in my underground bunker to tell me differently. In fact, when you get down to it, I think that’s what the Mayan’s were getting at all along. Change is upon us. I certainly feel the shift. This has been one hell of a year. Lots of sadness and loss. From the looks of things, a lot of worlds are ending. Look at Newtown. The parents of those children didn’t need a calendar to end to show them their world has changed forever.
Reflecting upon the reflection of what this year has produced, I can’t help but feel disappointed. What the hell is going on here? It’s vigilante taken to mountain-size extremes. Malls, schools, temples, events, even the movies – all tarnished by someone’s need to die and take others down with them. When I went to the midnight showing of the Hobbit – someone asked me if I was afraid I’d be shot. I said no. I’m not afraid. If I die watching something I love that’s the way of things. Certainly it’s not something I want or hope for. But what else can you do? Not go out? Be stuck in fear? To me that’s a slower death – and far worse than losing your life while trying to live it.
I believe what we are experiencing now is the Mayan prophecy. A growing pain inside the heart of abundant change. When you break a bone – it hurts when it heals. That certainly sounds familiar: Broken bones. Broken hearts. Broken ideals. It’s like the book by Iyanla Vanzant, Peace From Broken Pieces. Finding comfort in the middle of hell and knowing that it will take hell and high water to stop you from succeeding.
The pessimistic lie I tell myself is that theres nothing I can do. I just have to accept the way things are. Yet deep inside, underneath the fear of change, I don’t want to accept. I want to improve. I want to become something. I find myself in challenging frames of mind. What is it I’m supposed to do? Make money? Buy stuff? Save lives? Administer faith? What’s inspiring – if anything – anymore? These maybe questions of a stagnant mind. Someone who needs, for a lack of better term, to get a goddamn hobby. Someone who should feed a homeless person; support a lost soul; practice gratitude. I’m convinced the way forward is by helping another move on. Giving help to another helps someone like me, find her niche in the world.
In regards to the what happened in Newtown, there are no words. No understanding. No reason behind the senselessness of the crime. Beneath the grief, like a flower in spring, roots take shape. Watching the memorial service and seeing a Muslim next to a Clergy woman; a priest next to a Rabbi; a wave of different faces, colors, background, all melding into one place – for one purpose: united grief. If grief unites us, so must other things. Is this the silver lining. Is this what 20 little babies had to die for? I’m hoping, like I always do after something like this. I’m hoping that we can finally come together: work together, love together, sit together, eat together. Recognize we are all in this together. See that we are all one. Maybe the shift that’s coming on December 21st has nothing to do with the apocalypse. Maybe, just maybe what’s headed our way is a apocaly-peace.