When a voice is needed, “Silence is the voice of complicity!” This Latin proverb calls us to ACTION … non-complicity … noise!
Natasha Bedingfield’s Unwritten (see Beached Oil) calls us to open up our dirty windows, let the sun illuminate us, reach for something in the distance … “No one else can feel it for you,” only you can share your gifts, your beauty, your needs, your perspectives.
Think, speak, act! “The only real prison is fear, and the only real freedom is freedom from fear!” shares Aung San Suu Kyi, Burmese dissident, political prisoner, and 1991 Nobel Peace Prize recipient.
To “feel the rain on our skin” is the beginning of connectedness. Being in touch with what is real gives us courage to make our noise.
Our new “News” tab (see above) will feature links to online articles that illuminate our connections with the Earth and each other. “News” will start small focusing on stories about the Earth. As “News” grows it will include humor too. Please be patient as this site develops. There is much to come!
Fisherman on water and rocks near Dauphin Island, photographed June 11, 2010
Simon was a fisherman. Like Simon many of us have job titles too. But we’re more than that. When the fish seemed gone, Simon had an amazing friend who said that from now on he would be a fisher of people. Simon asked his friend to leave him, but his friend assured him that nothing could keep him from being who Simon was meant to be.
About a week before the Deep Water Horizon oil explosion I had a dream. In the dream, I was at a meeting where we were all asked to introduce ourselves. When it was my turn, I went through various job titles I had held in the past and sat down. But the person leading the meeting responded, “That so lame!” because I was so much more than that. Her words did not make me feel bad at all, but rather I felt like a new chapter in my life was about to open.
The impact of the dream woke me. Sitting up I realized clearly that Life is about everyone. God is in love with each person. Each of us is needed. Each person has a mission! I realized that to avert disasters, we have to work hard, we can’t stay lame, we need to be real, who we are, who we are meant to be. Each of us defines this for ourselves, together we need to heal ourselves, heal the world. Now is the time. Act.
Of course, we feel shackled, lame, powerless … at times. We wonder “How can we do what we’re supposed to do?” But children seem to get at the heart of the matter often. “Momma, we need to stop picking up shells and pick up oil.” “How are we going to save all the sea animals?” In spite of the storms around us, each of us is called to make everything we touch better, we are called not only to walk, but to walk on water … to walk according to what is imperishable within us.
Britt Nicole singing her song Walk on the Water
Thousands of people last year were walking the beaches of Dauphin Island and other Gulf Coast locations. The oil eruption continues to flow while the flow of people to our beaches has all but stopped. An upcoming event may change that at least for one day.
Hands across the Sand is an event for people who want to say “No” to off-shore drilling and “Yes” to cleaner energy alternatives. It’s not for everybody. But for those who support this message it is a collective opportunity to make their voices heard.
On June 26, across the United States, in over 30 states, Hands across the Sand events will take place. On Dauphin Island, people will begin gathering at the public beach around 11:00 AM and will join hands for 15 minutes at 12:00 noon. The Dauphin Island event will proceed as planned unless the public beach is closed to the public at that time.
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Ducks close to a Dauphin Island Joint Incident Command Center, photographed June 9, 2010
Seagull, wounded with an oil-soak wing, along Bienville Avenue on Dauphin Island, photographed June 9, 2010
The playground of Dauphin Island School, photographed June 9, 2010
In all the comings and goings of heavy machinery, many bird eggs along the Gulf Coast lie in wait of an uncertain future, photographed June 9, 2010
Yesterday while riding bikes with my daughter, Julita, I watched the oil clean-up workers. I realized that these stressed workers covered with grimy, late afternoon sweats must have some very valuable perspectives. As I listened to several cough, I wondered about their health. I wondered also how their lives and their relationships with nature, people, and God were being affected by this catastrophe.
Today I tried several interviews. Here’s the first:
Question: “What’s it like being a worker here?”
Worker: “Work, work, work!”
Question: “You, workers, understand things that the rest of us don’t about the spill, don’t you?”
Worker: “Yes.”
Question: “Like?”
Worker: “I’m really sorry, I can’t talk about it, it’s against the rules.”
Over and over again I heard the same response: “I’m not allow to talk with anyone.” In several places, security officials would not allow me to take photographs. Near the public beach, the school’s playground was no longer available for children to play.
At the public beach, I met Mark from Chicago who reflected, “It’s about time that we start thinking of alternatives to gasoline engines. But of course that’s how I got here.” Like Mark I too was traveling by car.
I spoke with the handful of families visiting the public beach. At one point, I asked a few adults what they thought of all this. No one knew what to say until a small child began running circles around me, crying out over and over again, “How are we going to save all the sea animals?” A voice from on High had spoken.
At the public beach, others expressed shock that there’s another nearby drilling rig, the Ocean Saratoga, which has been leaking oil since at least April 30.
Right now I want to forget all the “blame games” and all the “powers that be.” What about me? … us?
On Saturday, while doing volunteer beach work, I got a harsh, unwanted kick in the pants. Paddies of foul smelling oil and toxic dispersants were all around me. How toxic to me? … to my wife? … to my children? I don’t know.
The birds, crabs, and fish at Katrina Cut have little choice. Two birds huddling together stared at me with a look of deep uncertainty. Nearby dolphins fed on schools of mullet. The animals there were nesting, resting, and swimming with the oil … a paradise lost. Large horseshoe crabs once flourishing in these waters were washing ashore dead.
I’m upset because I’m losing this paradise. I feel cheated. But why am I upset? Why, when so many people around me live in daily fear, rejection, and denied opportunities. Perhaps the oil eruption will crash my attachments and illusions … prompt me to care more and fear less … to regain reality. The crucified live all around me. The oil eruption is toxic … symptomatic of all that I have neglected. It’s a rude awakening, but I needed a real kick in the pants.
We as a human family need healing just as our environment needs healing. But healing can only be found with the crucified … jobless … unnoticed … lost … hurting … imprisoned … mourning … all of us included and active.
Energetic cooperation between all of us is where we find the Spirit, our All in All, who boundlessly enlightens, empowers, and heals. Fears, illusions, and attachments can hold us back, but now is the time to share our lives, needs, and talents. Our promised future is passionately reaching out to us but it is unwritten.
