Sunday Musings - July 5, 2020
We are.
Across the United States yesterday individuals and families gathered to celebrate or to mourn July 4. For some, especially those of us who identify as Caucasian males - who enjoy the spoils of our history - it was a celebration. For many who are “your tired, your, poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore… the homeless, tempest-tossed.. (Emma Lazarus’s 1883 sonnet “The New Colossus”) it was a day of fear knowing that they are not yet home or, as is true for the Native Americans, no longer home.
For some, it was a day of renewed hope, and faith that one day “we shall overcome”; a day of awakening to the epiphany of Bigger Thomas the main character in Richard Wright’s Native Son “You can’t do nothin but kill me and that ain’t nothing.”
There have always been those that knew in the midst of the worst of what us humans can do to each other this life journey is only, at best, ten minutes long. Although, for some it may seem as if one can put off going to confession and drinking from the chalice, most of us at some point, are faced with a stark reminder that we only have today.
In the Ohio Valley this week I was personally aware of the death of several as a direct or indirect result of the disease of addiction. Often death occurs in what we like to think is the prime of one’s youth. I am also aware of the many whose search for a safe home for themselves and their children will not be found in the United States or anyplace else
it is a nation of unequal opportunity. It is a nation of the 1%. It is a nation of the anger of the so called “left and right; of “us and them”; of labels hurled at each other; of the Sonia Sotomayor’s who seem to make lemonade out of lemons; of those whose fear and disconnectedness keep their vision myopic; of those who respond to the blind with hate.
It is a nation of denial that hospitals in many parts of the country are running out of ICU beds. It is nation of constant chatter. It is also a nation where love often overrides all differences; where many gather in small groups to feed and care for each other.
It is a nation which has the opportunity to face its history, its goals and its dreams; to be accountable but not waste energy on shame and self-centered self-pity. The opportunity is to stand tall and be naked; to face the ugliness of our past and our present; to face the amazing creative power we possess. We have to look no further that our factories to find millions of amazing machines which can perform the most intricate operations. Someone designs and creates the machines which make the machines. Many make visions manifest reality.
Those visions are accessible to all of us. On this Sunday, following the day celebrated as Independence Day, we can either cover ourselves with sackcloth and ashes or we can stand tall and together determine to make amends and to daily practice in all our affairs the hope which is embedded in the words of the Declaration of Independence and in Emma Lazarus’s poem. We can stop beating up on each other - “We have all sinned and gone astray...”
We are a nation of the gifts of the Native American who revere the earth. We are a nation of immigrants who bring many talents and visions. We are a nation of those who know healing because they have known pain. We are a nation of musicians, dancers, artists and a host of others creative individuals and groups. We may have to destroy the image we want to have of ourselves and face who we are before we can hold ourselves in the “cradle of loving kindness”. We are. We are. We are.
Written July 5, 2020
Jimmy F Pickett
coachpickett.org
We are.
Across the United States yesterday individuals and families gathered to celebrate or to mourn July 4. For some, especially those of us who identify as Caucasian males - who enjoy the spoils of our history - it was a celebration. For many who are “your tired, your, poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore… the homeless, tempest-tossed.. (Emma Lazarus’s 1883 sonnet “The New Colossus”) it was a day of fear knowing that they are not yet home or, as is true for the Native Americans, no longer home.
For some, it was a day of renewed hope, and faith that one day “we shall overcome”; a day of awakening to the epiphany of Bigger Thomas the main character in Richard Wright’s Native Son “You can’t do nothin but kill me and that ain’t nothing.”
There have always been those that knew in the midst of the worst of what us humans can do to each other this life journey is only, at best, ten minutes long. Although, for some it may seem as if one can put off going to confession and drinking from the chalice, most of us at some point, are faced with a stark reminder that we only have today.
In the Ohio Valley this week I was personally aware of the death of several as a direct or indirect result of the disease of addiction. Often death occurs in what we like to think is the prime of one’s youth. I am also aware of the many whose search for a safe home for themselves and their children will not be found in the United States or anyplace else
it is a nation of unequal opportunity. It is a nation of the 1%. It is a nation of the anger of the so called “left and right; of “us and them”; of labels hurled at each other; of the Sonia Sotomayor’s who seem to make lemonade out of lemons; of those whose fear and disconnectedness keep their vision myopic; of those who respond to the blind with hate.
It is a nation of denial that hospitals in many parts of the country are running out of ICU beds. It is nation of constant chatter. It is also a nation where love often overrides all differences; where many gather in small groups to feed and care for each other.
It is a nation which has the opportunity to face its history, its goals and its dreams; to be accountable but not waste energy on shame and self-centered self-pity. The opportunity is to stand tall and be naked; to face the ugliness of our past and our present; to face the amazing creative power we possess. We have to look no further that our factories to find millions of amazing machines which can perform the most intricate operations. Someone designs and creates the machines which make the machines. Many make visions manifest reality.
Those visions are accessible to all of us. On this Sunday, following the day celebrated as Independence Day, we can either cover ourselves with sackcloth and ashes or we can stand tall and together determine to make amends and to daily practice in all our affairs the hope which is embedded in the words of the Declaration of Independence and in Emma Lazarus’s poem. We can stop beating up on each other - “We have all sinned and gone astray...”
We are a nation of the gifts of the Native American who revere the earth. We are a nation of immigrants who bring many talents and visions. We are a nation of those who know healing because they have known pain. We are a nation of musicians, dancers, artists and a host of others creative individuals and groups. We may have to destroy the image we want to have of ourselves and face who we are before we can hold ourselves in the “cradle of loving kindness”. We are. We are. We are.
Written July 5, 2020
Jimmy F Pickett
coachpickett.org
RSS Feed