Greensleeves Loreena McKennitt 1991
It is a world in panic. A world on fire. A world in a state of emergency.
Isn’t it always?
Since we crawled out of the water and slapped our slimy selves up onto the shore.
The animals panicked. The birds, the plants… Even the clouds and storms fled from us. The two-legged terror.
We snatched one and ripped into it’s flesh with our teeth. We ate it whole and licked our lips wanting for more.
We are humans.
Animals.
Not the biggest or the strongest. Not the wisest or fastest.
Not the first.
Those big lizards fucked it up and you see what happened to them.
We didn’t know. Neither did they. Who says we should know anyways?
Just another one of the animals on this planet.
And all of our buildings and concrete… Simply reeds in a nest of spiderwebs and old newspaper.
The Book – Kept things from descending into bloody madness. The Book. The Law.
Those self-imposed rules after the humans began to scare themselves with their monstrosities against the other animals and against each other.
Scared themselves. Panicked. A state of emergency. We must do something.
Don’t kill.
Don’t lie.
Don’t steal.
All you do is a series of don’ts.
We could roam around in furs but we can’t be trusted.
The news this morning is panicked. State of emergency.
Look here. You either live or you die.
We are not the “world leaders”. We are not the “game changers”.
Whatever games in whatever sandbox is simply a human situation. The Earth does not care, and young people, you should not either.
Your world happens ten years from now. Twenty. You are a sponge absorbing the situation until you know enough to squeeze out the water.
You either live or die.
And if you live. The future is yours.
The sky will still be blue in places. The sun will still shine in places. If it doesn’t anymore, it no longer matters does it?
Night Ride Across the Caucasus Loreena McKennit 2013
Be strong. Do not watch the other men’s sports unless you want to be playing with them.
Our world is the one God gave us. The bed you wake up in, the states you travel to, the clubs you party in. The friends we make in corners, on the streets, and where ever more than one of us is gathered…
Camaraderie. Love. Tolerance.
Dance.
Sing.
Make up your own Gods and ancient Spirits but Worship.
Gives purpose.
Tending to the Earth, as you would a field of vegetables or herd of cattle.
Gives purpose.
The sky, the stars. The Earth that is Our home.
It will not die.
And if it does. We all go with it, poof, no more humans.
What is this arrogance that says we should perpetuate the human race into infinity? Did the Do Do bird think that?
I wonder…
While things are bleak we are emotional. Cinderblocks on our feet, bags of sand tying us to the ground. Things fall away and we are sad.
When nothing is left. There is always something left.
Dew on a sunlit spiderweb. Clouds floating by making shapes. Soft grass with no bugs. Warm sun on your skin, gentle breezes across your face. An old calculator that still works.
Even in the rubble… Small gold flecked black beetles, with tiny pincers like you’ve never seen.
Dante’s Prayer Loreena McKennitt 2013
She begs to be remembered. To entertain. To hold us in her warm embrace again. All the things she has given us. Anything we wanted from her.
And Lord are we Stupid.
We think the Sun doesn’t live in the sky but in rocks we can hold. We think the sparkling sea resides in stones carved from the Mother’s womb.
Why are we here?
Why is the Dog here?
In the vast superscheme of the Universe it does not matter. You are here now.
It’s a panicked world we are living in. A state of emergency everywhere. No one is happy. They have said the future looks bleak and then a list of things… Economy, climate change, war… Man’s shit.
If we do not die, life goes on.
The buildings may fall away but don’t we like sweet green grass better anyway?
The smoke will clear and we will see the sky with no impediments.
See the stars as they were meant to be seen, bright against the blackest night.