Like these prayer flags–seemingly at the mercy of the elements–we will lift our faces toward the sun, humble but fervent in expressing our best hopes, prayers, and dreams for each other and the world.
Peace, peace, peace.
Today we celebrate the life of Martin Luther King Jr., a Baptist minister, Nobel Laureate and civil rights activist who dedicated his life to “peace, social justice, and opportunity for all Americans, irrespective of color or creed.”
Today we commemorate the undeniable force behind Dr. King’s words, the unmistakable impact of his willingness to “pray with his feet.” As we examine his place in history, we reflect equally on his physical footprint and the truths he held self-evident.
It’s a good day, also, to think about our personal legacies. Where do we stand in the long arc of history? When we “tell it on the mountain,” what’s being echoed in the valleys below? I’ve illustrated a small sampling of Dr. King’s quotes, because they speak to my own ideals and aspirations. Feel free to download them and share.
He seems innocent enough, and as cuddly as can be…
But looks can be deceiving!!
So I’ve surrounded the most vulnerable (read: tasty) plants with a rabbit guard fence. It’s worked out well so far…my flowers are thriving, and the bunnies, birds, and butterflies are co-existing in peace.
#GardeningAsMetaphor
(You can download this last image for your personal use, but please keep the watermark intact.)
The Robin is the One
That speechless from her Nest
Submit that Home — and Certainty
And Sanctity, are best. —Emily Dickinson
Three explosions ripped through Brussels earlier this morning, killing at least 34 innocent people and injuring 134. In the aftermath of this terrorist attack, people are linking arms with Belgium via social media.
To their voices, I add my whispered prayers: Peace among nations, peace in our homes, peace in our hearts.
And I hear the quiet echo of my grandmother’s voice, a comfort to me on this shrouded morning. “In the darkest nights of winter,” my Nana always said, “watch the skies and listen for the robins.”
Violence cast a pall over this second day of Spring. The robin’s song is muted by grief. And still–because of, and despite the horrors of this moment–I carry within my heart an anthem: Cheer cheer, cheerily, cheer up, cheer up…change is gonna come.
Whether or not they supported the counter-protest (or read my takeaways from that event), a handful of people expressed real concerns about my having attended the KKK rally in Anaheim. Some talked to me privately; still others confronted me outright. What on earth were you thinking? It seems so out of character, they said.
I disagreed. It’s all of a piece, I said, and I invited them to look a little deeper. I’ll answer those questions here (as often as you’d like…), if you’ll permit me to come at them sideways.
We are multi-faceted beings, every one of us. I’m captivated by Mother Nature’s most exquisite creations, but–and–I also have within my heart an innate desire to cradle “the least of them,” within and beyond my own garden gates.
I watch hummingbirds out my kitchen window every morning, see them wage fierce battles mid-air, iridescent wings shimmering in the afternoon sun as they chase away intruders. Inspired by their courage, I run outside, flailing my arms as I shout, “Shoo! Go away!” to the murder of crows on the neighboring hillside.
I’m swept away by a robin’s song, and I carry within my heart an anthem: Cheer cheer, cheerily, cheer up…change is gonna come.
I twist the lens until the mourning dove comes into focus, and use Lightroom to scrub the poop plops on the fence. It’s more pleasant that way, don’t you think?
When the water shortage deepened, we replaced our backyard sod with drought-friendly flowers, all of which attract butterflies, honeybees, and songbirds. It’s a small space, and our switchover to drip irrigation isn’t going to refill the aquifers. But it helps prevent runoff from polluting our ocean, and it’s more than enough to fill the birdbaths again every morning.
Between the lavender and penstemon, we’ve planted this sign. It’s an honor to be designated as a Monarch Waystation, in recognition of the work we’re doing to help support the earth and her inhabitants. Bare minimum, it’s a conversation piece. Each one, teach one. We learn from each other.
Exactly one week after the KKK rally, I plant milkweed seeds with my little friend Sara. It’s in short supply now, due to overzealous pesticide applications and misguided/misinformed land management practices. The consequences are devastating: Since milkweed’s the sole food source for monarch caterpillars, and the only plant on which monarch butterflies lays its egg, the monarch population has plummeted. We’re doing our part to help save these winged beauties from the threat of extinction.
I know from experience (and the parable of the sower) that the things we sow don’t always take root and grow. Even so, as we tuck tiny seeds into peat pockets, I say a silent benediction: Let hope be renewed, and peace be restored, within our own hearts and the habitats we share. And I remember, then as always, the African proverb: “When you pray, move your feet.”
Long answer made short?
This is how it feels to work together on behalf of something bigger than ourselves–something that has potentially positive effects, on our own lives and that of future generations.
When was the last time you spent a relaxing day at the beach, completely unplugged–
resting quietly at the ocean’s edge,
utterly mesmerized by waves that froth and curl, and then ease themselves ashore?
When’s the last time you saw a seagull take wing,
or spied a honeybee, humming a song about sunshine as it collects pollen?
Do you remember the last time you heard the ocean’s lullaby,
felt it ease the wrinkles from your worried brow?
(Did you figure it out already? This week’s art challenge prompt is the word CALM.)
Want to see more? My responses to previous challenges are available here.