When I was deep into my spiritual awakening, I had
startlingly prescient dreams; in one, the words, "violent emergency"
reverberated through my mind. It was
a violent emergence; birth is fierce. There is an ocean of difference, however,
between Nature's ferocity and that which is deliberately inflicted by human
beings with their own agendas.
Theologian and author Thomas Moore
writes, "Deep in the etymology of 'violence' is a strong Latin word, vis. It is the power in nature that we
sense in the surging sea and the growth of grass. In our experiences of
violence we witness the vain attempt of life to push itself into existence and
visibility. This is a sexual power. Sex is not just about making bodies but
making souls as well. The people of the world need every opportunity to be
creative and visible. They need to enjoy
life, not just survive. Without that opportunity, they will turn to violence,
in spite of themselves."
Life's
Novocaine
We tend to go through life anesthetized against our
own yearning. The call to claim our power can be terrifying, because it means
accepting our invitation to the Dance — and most of us have forgotten how
to dance, if indeed we ever knew. We find it easier to lash out in anger: rage,
the undiscovered country. If being "outrageous" means getting the
rage out, Americans are black belts. Having lost touch with the wilderness
within, we savage the Earth and each other in an effort to combat our
loneliness.
War is the grand expression of
this misdirected energy. It's akin to our ability, or lack of it, to harness
the power of the sun. Yoked to our solar egg, we could shine on in all our
ecological radiance for millennia. Yoking means union, but we're used to living
the more limiting definition of bondage. Trussed to our desperation, we sigh,
"That's life!" Since interdependence — becoming what Kenny
Ausubel christened "Bioneers," or biological pioneers, co-creating
with Nature — feels so foreign, we stay (un)comfortably in the familiar, pump
up the volume, and wearily watch as the world turns.
There is a way out: it's through. The trees are gods and
goddesses who in their stillness keep the Earth's counsel; the animals are our
allies. We can commune with a snake or a sea lion as easily as with the people
we call kin. The key lies in reclaiming our wildness — not as violence, but as
an abiding, sensuous connection with Nature. Instead of experiencing everything
at one remove, we can allow it to enter us. READ MORE
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