Celebrating Abundance When All Is Strife


Today was the Equinox, celebrated around the world by many cultures, ancient and modern, as a thanks for the harvest. It marks a period of fatness before the hibernation of the winter. People offer prayer in exchange for abundance, the joy of comraderie with friends, delicious meals that involve mead and squash–all things which are delightful.

But the Earth and the people on it, in some cases literally, have been screaming. Perhaps as nature worshippers, we feel this more poignantly because it is the deity itself, or the part of it that is known to us sensually, that is being used carelessly and polluted. To watch the phallic invasion of the Dakota pipeline into the luster of that wilderness is deicide. The protestors are throwing their bodies against this. There is divinity in that water that keeps the people of the Dakotas alive. It is not symbolic.The connection of the tribes to that land, to the burial ground of their ancestors is sacred and palpable.

This desecration would not be happening if the ancestors had gravestones with crosses. There is a polarity between white and not-white, Christian and other, that politicians feed on, that they use to perpetuate further gobal crimes.

So today I celebrated abundance by offering kindness to those who were in search of it. I used my skills of visualization to experience to the best of my heart’s ability, what it would be like to lose a loved one and have the murderers behave callously as if that loved one were not even a person, not someone worth saving, as if having a different skin color could erase their humanity. It was a big, painful exercise and at the end of it I wondered why all people did not do this. How do we relate to the divinity of others if we cannot even extend them our humanity, if we can’t hold their suffering within the boundlessness of our compassion and say that they are worth saving.

The sun and the moon may be happy together with their momentary equality but as humans, we have some work to do. The sickness of the world is its hypermasculinity as defined by Western culture. Compassion is weak and womanly. As for its weakness, they could not hit further from the mark. Any true spiritual or religious person who practices compassion will tell of its transformative power. It grows more powerful the more of it you give. As for compassion being womanly, my gender can’t claim it. It’s there for anybody of any gender. The more people who opt in, the more we will all have to go around next Mabon.

I hope that those of us who are celebrating abundance can do so and see the looming darkness for what it is–scary as hell. But it can fade into nothingness in the face of unrelenting compassionate action.

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