I can talk of myself and speak of various activities I engage in, and give myself partial identity through these engagements. Some of which I may excel at.
Still, before the values of the big world, I am next to nothing. Before the faces of the powerful and game callers, I am nobody, an invisible entity, a mere murmur passing into silence.
Of course I recognize that I walk differently, am moving in a different direction to rhythm of a different drum. My heart might even be echoing somewhat the heartbeat from the fiery core of the Earth.
So I turn to people. For underneath the tedious disguises of survival, in the ancient ever ripening dream of freedom, we are identical. I come to you—you and the other reachable at near-distance. I look into your eyes this moment and lift my hands in the gesture of exchanging gifts.
The world is serious—a serious, beautiful, threatening, tenuous place—on threshold tipping lives and species into uncertain futures. But there are no leaders, and those who pretend to be have no real answers.
So here we are. This is you, this is I—words like a harvest fruit in our mouths—the danger, the ordinary and the possible
One act of beauty might become the universal increase of giving. One prayer together might save from extinction the archangel of the Earth, or the sacredness of life.
28 August 2011