Hope Amongst Her Lands

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Abstract

alling out for help in our multifaceted ways. Our brains yearn for calmness to see within its vast Innerspace, yet we keep turning up the volume. Life is so loud. I can barely hear my thoughts as I write these words.</p><p id="9c51">We need to find a balance of the soul and mind. Those worlds of logic, emotion, art, science, civilization, and nature — that seemed separate, but that is a grave illusion. Nothing is separate, just like nothing is permanent. Everything is flux. Everything is connected. Our problem is believing the illusion as reality. Between our worldviews, and what we believe is and what actually is — the more separation between these two, the more we suffer. The valley and the mountain are the same.</p><p id="2ed3">Hence, we must co-exist and embrace impermanence. Right now, we’re trying to be conquerors of our world, but we’re failing. The consequence will be that she will exile us from these fertile lands, and we will wander the stars as lost memories of an ancient land that gave us so much. We will saunter until we forget her blue oceans and immense green forests — until we forget just how amazing it tastes to breathe her rich decadent air.</p><p id="9f18">I’m sitting on a bench listening and watching the birds sing and fly from tree limb to tree limb — orange chested robins chirp, communicating in their frantic way. Azure bluejays mimic predators to scare off other birds, honing in on what they truly want. The vermillion glow of luxurious cardinals sits quietly in Maple trees, as red-winged blackbirds sit atop cattails. They sing and mate and dance. They live upon electrical wires, thinking them tree limbs — immersed in this new world of ours, and I wonder, how loud it is to them? The cars that wisp by or the roar of planes mimicking them overhead.</p><p id="9f86">Above us, turkey vultures scan and wait. For them, life and death are the same. The world has yet to change because no species has transcendent this natural divide between the whithering realms of entropy and time — the gods of impermanence.</p><p id="6d15">Red-tailed hawks see it all. They know the truth, in a vole’s final soliloquy. They see the fall and rise of civilizations crumble in a winter’s repose. And I wonder what these exact scene will be like in a hundred years. Will the birds still sing? Will the predators again eat? How loud will life have gotten? Or will it have grown quiet, like the jungles just before the tiger pounces?</p><p id="df48">Right now, America has grown desperate. The very foundation

Options

s are cracking, and we are all falling into the void. A pandemic rages across the world. And systemic racism and injustice burn up our hearts and minds. I’m afraid it’s all just too loud and painful. We need to unite. We need to come together. We need to learn to live in harmony. To grow like these trees and vines and burn bright like the fireflies at night. We need a revolution. To grow as one instead of drifting apart of as none. We have to change the very foundations we are too lazy to change. We have to quiet the world while making sure we hear every voice equally. Only then can empathy connect the valleys within us to the mountaintops we long for — only then can our world truly prosper and grow.</p><p id="1c37">I know these words are nothing. That I’m just an impermanent being echoing into that void, just more noise within the 1’s and 0’s of our virtual reality. I know that someday, I too will be forgotten — if not, already. But I still believe in both the valley and the mountain. I still believe in seeing ourselves today but looking ahead to the future. A future that we can write together.</p><p id="0321">I love humanity. It enrages me, yes. I’m always disappointed in humans, yet only because I care deeply. I still have hope. And I know, together, we can view ourselves — and this beautiful Earth and the universe — from both perspectives. From the perspective of the valley of our inner-worlds to the peak of the mountains and our external world. Both viewpoints need to be our guides for tomorrow. We need to see the love and beauty within. We need to sing our songs and poetry of our hearts to each other. Compassion and love are the only ways forward. Only then can we can see the truth for what it is: bountiful in mystery and promise.</p><p id="0a99">I still have hope. Do you?</p><p id="4c5d">© <a href="undefined">Bradley J Nordell</a> 2020</p><p id="fd98">If you enjoyed this story, you might also like to read:</p><div id="4643" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/my-words-are-doorways-to-you-cd4fb6a8a0b2"> <div> <div> <h2>My Words Are Doorways To You</h2> <div><h3>Creative non-fiction prose on why I write</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*DwZ__dp_mZTJYKaU)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

A creative philosophical nonfiction piece about civilization’s relationship with nature and the hope for tomorrow

There’s no greater truth found atop the peak of a mountain than in the darkness of a hallowed valley. Yet, there’s a moment of perspective that is sought and revealed in the two locations. In the valley, the wanderer is looking up, hoping to overcome fear while peering up at those impossible heights — and the treacherous trail ahead. And upon the mountaintop, the wanderer is looking down, feeling that accomplishment brewing inside their souls — as they spread their spirits toward the sky and grasp that those infinite possibilities waiting for them below. From the sunset to the sunrise, the light understands the dark.

They see life as specs of spheres tossed around like a great Go game of existence. Yet neither view is more distinguished than the other. Each is as significant as the other — giving us the interconnected viewpoints needed to understand the truth of our being in the world. The fact that we must excavate from nature, that we are integrated wholeness with her. That truth, beauty, and meaning is not something she bestowed upon us but something we must gather from the riddles scattered in her skies, along with her deserts of ice and sand, drifting in her azure seas, waiting upon barren mountains, and resting serenely in swaying prairies.

In this civilization, we have lost these perspectives. Through fire, asphalt, coal, steel spires, and carbon skies, we have shielded our sight from those scattered revelations. We built skyscrapers hoping to see further, yet; we see only the shadows of smog. We built houses, hoping to wither the storms of life, yet we contain it only within these walls with an existential dread that binds us from stepping outside our front doors. The journey is lost in the falsehood of comfort.

We seek certainty, but we don’t know what it is. So, we replaced it with materialism and psychologically manipulating messages on our television screens. Our airwaves cluttered with the wrong ideas — calling out for help in our multifaceted ways. Our brains yearn for calmness to see within its vast Innerspace, yet we keep turning up the volume. Life is so loud. I can barely hear my thoughts as I write these words.

We need to find a balance of the soul and mind. Those worlds of logic, emotion, art, science, civilization, and nature — that seemed separate, but that is a grave illusion. Nothing is separate, just like nothing is permanent. Everything is flux. Everything is connected. Our problem is believing the illusion as reality. Between our worldviews, and what we believe is and what actually is — the more separation between these two, the more we suffer. The valley and the mountain are the same.

Hence, we must co-exist and embrace impermanence. Right now, we’re trying to be conquerors of our world, but we’re failing. The consequence will be that she will exile us from these fertile lands, and we will wander the stars as lost memories of an ancient land that gave us so much. We will saunter until we forget her blue oceans and immense green forests — until we forget just how amazing it tastes to breathe her rich decadent air.

I’m sitting on a bench listening and watching the birds sing and fly from tree limb to tree limb — orange chested robins chirp, communicating in their frantic way. Azure bluejays mimic predators to scare off other birds, honing in on what they truly want. The vermillion glow of luxurious cardinals sits quietly in Maple trees, as red-winged blackbirds sit atop cattails. They sing and mate and dance. They live upon electrical wires, thinking them tree limbs — immersed in this new world of ours, and I wonder, how loud it is to them? The cars that wisp by or the roar of planes mimicking them overhead.

Above us, turkey vultures scan and wait. For them, life and death are the same. The world has yet to change because no species has transcendent this natural divide between the whithering realms of entropy and time — the gods of impermanence.

Red-tailed hawks see it all. They know the truth, in a vole’s final soliloquy. They see the fall and rise of civilizations crumble in a winter’s repose. And I wonder what these exact scene will be like in a hundred years. Will the birds still sing? Will the predators again eat? How loud will life have gotten? Or will it have grown quiet, like the jungles just before the tiger pounces?

Right now, America has grown desperate. The very foundations are cracking, and we are all falling into the void. A pandemic rages across the world. And systemic racism and injustice burn up our hearts and minds. I’m afraid it’s all just too loud and painful. We need to unite. We need to come together. We need to learn to live in harmony. To grow like these trees and vines and burn bright like the fireflies at night. We need a revolution. To grow as one instead of drifting apart of as none. We have to change the very foundations we are too lazy to change. We have to quiet the world while making sure we hear every voice equally. Only then can empathy connect the valleys within us to the mountaintops we long for — only then can our world truly prosper and grow.

I know these words are nothing. That I’m just an impermanent being echoing into that void, just more noise within the 1’s and 0’s of our virtual reality. I know that someday, I too will be forgotten — if not, already. But I still believe in both the valley and the mountain. I still believe in seeing ourselves today but looking ahead to the future. A future that we can write together.

I love humanity. It enrages me, yes. I’m always disappointed in humans, yet only because I care deeply. I still have hope. And I know, together, we can view ourselves — and this beautiful Earth and the universe — from both perspectives. From the perspective of the valley of our inner-worlds to the peak of the mountains and our external world. Both viewpoints need to be our guides for tomorrow. We need to see the love and beauty within. We need to sing our songs and poetry of our hearts to each other. Compassion and love are the only ways forward. Only then can we can see the truth for what it is: bountiful in mystery and promise.

I still have hope. Do you?

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