SOLUTIONS
Even in the Dark
by Joanna Macy
Gratitude
We have received an inestimable gift. To be alive in this beautiful self-organizing universe--to participate in the dance of life with senses to perceive it, lungs that breathe it, organs that draw nourishment from it--is a wonder beyond words. Gratitude for the gift of life is the primary wellspring of all religions, the hallmark of the mystic, the source of all true art. Yet we so easily take this gift for granted. That is why so many spiritual traditions begin with appreciation or thanksgiving, to remind us that for all our woes and worries, our existence itself is an unearned benefaction, which we could never of ourselves create.
Even in the Dark
That our world is in crisis—to the point where survival of conscious life on Earth is in question—in no way diminishes the value of this gift; on the contrary. To us is granted the privilege of being on hand: to take part, if we choose, in the Great Turning to a just and sustainable society. We can let life work through us, enlisting all our strength, wisdom and courage, so that life itself can continue.
The great open secret of gratitude is that it is not dependent on external circumstance. It’s like a setting or channel that we can switch on to at any moment, no matter what’s going on around us. It helps us connect to our basic right to be here, like the breath does. It’s a stance of the soul. In systems theory, each part contains the whole. Gratitude is the kernel that can flower into everything we need to know.
The Activist's Inner Journey
There are hard things to face in our world today, if we want to be of use. Gratitude, when it’s real, offers no blinders. On the contrary, in the face of devastation and tragedy it can ground us, especially when we’re scared. It can hold us steady for the work to be done.
The activist’s inner journey appears to me like a spiral, interconnecting four successive stages or movements that feed into each other. These four are:
(1) opening to gratitude,
(2) owning our pain for the world,
(3) seeing with new eyes,
(4) going forth.
The sequence repeats itself, as the spiral circles round, but ever in new ways. The spiral is fractal in nature: it can characterize a lifetime or a project, and it can also happen in a day or several times a day. The spiral begins with gratitude, because that quiets the frantic mind and brings us back to source. It reconnects us with our empathy and personal power. It helps us to be more fully present to our world. Grounded presence provides the psychic space for acknowledging the pain we carry for our world.
In owning this pain, and daring to experience it, we learn that our capacity to “suffer with” is the true meaning of compassion. We begin to know the immensity of our heart-mind, and how it helps us to move beyond fear. What had isolated us in private anguish now opens outward and delivers us into wider reaches of our world as lover, world as self.
The truth of our inter-existence, made real to us by our pain for the world, helps us see with new eyes. It brings fresh understandings of who we are and how we are related to each other and the universe. We begin to comprehend our own power to change and heal. We strengthen by growing living connections with past and future generations, and our brother and sister species.
Then, ever again, we go forth into the action that calls us. With others whenever and wherever possible, we set a target, lay a plan, step out. We don’t wait for a blueprint or fail-proof scheme; for each step will be our teacher, bringing new perspectives and opportunities. Even when we don’t succeed in a given venture, we can be grateful for the chance we took and the lessons we learned. And the spiral begins again.
Don't Leave Us Alone
Short-tailed albatross
Whooping crane
Gray wolf
Woodland caribou
Hawksbill sea turtle
Rhinoceros
The lists of endangered species grow longer every year. With too many names to hold in our mind, how do we honour the passing of life? What funerals are appropriate?
Reed warbler
Swallowtail butterfly
Bighorn sheep
Indian python
Howler monkey
Sperm whale
Blue whale
Dive me deep, brother whale, in this time we have left. Deep in our mother ocean where I once swam, gilled, and finned. The salt from those early seas still runs in my tears. Tears aren’t enough anymore. Give me a song, a song for a sadness too vast for my heart, for a rage too wild for my throat.
Giant sable antelope
Wyoming toad
Polar bear
Brown bear
Bactrian camel
Nile crocodile
Chinese alligator
Ooze me, alligator, in the mud whence I came. Belly me slow in the rich primordial soup, cradle of our molecules. Let me wallow again, before we drain your swamp and pave it over.
Gray bat
Ocelot
Pocket mouse
Sockeye salmon
Hawaiian goose
Audouin’s seagull
Quick, lift off. Sweep me high over the coast and out, farther out. Don’t land here. Oil spills coat the beach, rocks, sea. I cannot spread my wings glued with tar. Fly me from what we have done, fly me far.
Golden parakeet
West African ostrich
Florida panther
Galapagos penguin
Imperial pheasant
Mexican prairie dog
Hide me in a hedgerow, badger. Can’t you find one? Dig me a tunnel through leaf-mold and roots, under the trees that once defined our fields. My heart is bulldozed and plowed over. Burrow me a labyrinth deeper than longing.
Thick-billed parrot
Blue pike
Snow leopard
Molokai thrush
California condor
Lotus blue butterfly
Crawl me out of here, caterpillar. Spin me a cocoon. Wind me to sleep in a shroud of silk, where in patience my bones will dissolve. I’ll wait as long as all creation if only it will come again—and I take wing.
Atlantic Ridley turtle
Coho salmon
Helmeted hornbill
Marine otter
Humpback whale
Steller sea lion
Monk seal
Swim me out beyond the ice floes, mama. Where are you? Boots squeeze my ribs, clubs drum my fur, the white world goes black with the taste of my blood.
Gibbon
Sand gazelle
Swamp deer
Musk deer
Cheetah
Chinchilla
Asian elephant
African elephant
Sway me slowly through the jungle. There still must be jungle somewhere. My heart drips with green secrets. Hose me down by the waterhole; there is buckshot in my hide. Tell me old stories while you can remember.
Desert tortoise
Crested ibis
Hook-billed kite
Mountain zebra
Tibetan antelope
Andrew’s frigatebird
In the time when his world, like ours, was ending, Noah had a list of the animals, too. We picture him standing by the gangplank, calling their names, checking them off on his scroll. Now we also are checking them off.
Ivory-billed woodpecker
Indus river dolphin
West Indian manatee
Wood stork
We re-enact Noah’s ancient drama, but in reverse, like a film running backwards, the animals exiting.
Ferret
Gorilla
Tiger
Wolf
Your tracks are growing fainter.
Wait. Wait. This a hard time.
Don’t leave us alone in a world we have wrecked.
This article has been reprinted by permission of the author, from World As Lover, World As Self (2007), her classic work of deep ecology & engaged Buddhism. It was described by Whole Earth Review as "a profoundly important book, one that truth-seekers, spiritually motivated political activists and ordinary citizens with their eyes open will find indispensable". In the original, the poem is entitled The Bestiary.