Human Being Human
The paradox of life...
Moments of deep peace. Of joy. Of gut-wrenching heartbreak. Moments being in touch with all the “if I only knew then what I know now”, of celebration for all that is right and good. I wonder if life is this much of a kaleidoscope of emotions and thoughts for everyone.
I sit in the middle of what feels a larger than life paradox. Here in northern New Mexico, in my 75% finished mostly self designed and built home done with my husband, life is so very good. Peaceful. Exquisitely beautiful. We have community, engage with acts of service, intimate connection with nature, and vibrant music and cultural possibilities in town. Very high quality food. Gratitude for all this fills me to overflowing and at times it even runs down my cheeks.
And then there is what is happening in the larger world. Politically, environmentally, economically and for me the most devastating, the ongoing genocide in Gaza. As a young person I read most every book on the holocaust that I could. As if the immensity of my disbelief would be quelled if I read one more book. The horror was so visceral. Now I watch the posts on Instagram from MothersAgainstGenocide , and read Caitlin Johnstone on SubStack with the same immensity of disbelief about what has been and is happening in Gaza and the West Bank. There are many books to read, for those of us willing to take the time to try to understand the unspeakable. A Very Short History of the Ireali Palestinian Conflict , The 100 Years War on Palestine. And the documentary “Where Olive Trees Weep”.
And absolutely regardless to anyones perspective on how and why all this started, what is going on and has been for over a year is most horrendous, vile and unconscionable.
Everything I experience in my life, all the beauty, all the love and goodness, has sitting right beside it the horrors of Gaza. I choose to know. I am heart broken. My throat aches as tears of tremendous grief pour out. Why? Because we are all in this together.
Why Gaza? There have many multitudes of other atrocities and still are. Perhaps it’s being part Jewish, my mother being an Ashkenazi Jew. Remembering the hot shame I felt as a child in my very Christian neighborhood, when someone pointed out my Jewish identity. Maybe it’s the feeling of not just genocide but holocaust, regardless of the numbers, that this attack on the Palestinian people seems to be. And maybe it doesn’t matter why. I just want the world to step in and stop these INSANE oligarchs who have taken over running life here on planet Earth.