Grief, Global Warming & Gratitude
This past month, I have struggled to function on a high professional level, despite knowing that I am in a Chronic Fatigue Syndrome relapse. I showed up at openings, in meetings woth colleagues and patrons, completed and sent work to various venues and perfomed Virtual Concerts faithfully every Tuesday. But this week, I began to realize I would have to admit defeat. Things began going wrong here and there. A bill was paid late. An argument with a friend. Excruciating pain I couldn't ignore and so on.
That's also how global warming works. You keep trying to do things the same old same way. But then a tornado hits a part of the world that doesn't have tornados. People begin to starve from prolonged droughts and they riot or die. Wars erupt in competitions over resources. A hurricane hits a city and obliterates it.
And eventually, one has to admit defeat. The defeat of arrogance at any rate. Arrogance that we can continue as tho we are immune to this abstraction, whether we call it an illness of the body or of the earth. And then comes the grief for what is lost.
When I grieve for the implications of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, it is for the lost income that forces untenable choices on me- for the alternative health I cannot afford and my insurance doesn't cover but that does alleviate my symptoms. For the periods of isolated bed rest I endure from time to time. Opportunities and joys that pass me by. And then I accept a measure of humility. And it is humility that must be embraced if we would limit our use of resources in this world.
And when I hit bottom, as I did a couple days ago, something makes me remember that all is not lost yet: as when I walked by a park, almost too weak to continue to take one more step forward and stood transfixed for fifteen minutes watching two squirrels chasing and tumbling eachother around the base of a tree surrounded by yellow daffodils with orange trumpets and tulips of apricot mixed with gold.
It is painful to forego the travel or the air conditioner or the imported foods for Westerners that contribute to a large carbon footprint. Far more painful to see someone else die because of our insouciance. Most painful of all, when we suffer the consequences of our own resistance to an honest accounting of reality.
Life is so beautiful and precious. Isn't the greatest gift we might give back reconciliatory, a respect for and peace with life's limits?
