Day, night, morning
Saturday, 31. December 2005, 20:53:22
Today's Reflection is about a year in review, and about the endless cycle of life - from day to night to morning.
2005 was a rich and diverse year, both on global and personal scales. There were natural disasters and human-made horrors, from the tsunami in Southeast Asia to human bombs in Amman and Iraq (as an aside thought, perhaps all the natural disasters are simply Nature's way of saying Enough - and we humans need to start listening). Yet, hand-in-hand with those, there were amazing acts of individuals and groups to offset these disasters, highlighting the perspective of increasing human kindness and collaboration in dire times. The darkest hour of the night is indeed just before dawn.
This has also been a rich year on a more personal scale. Among them was the completion of a Masters degree in the spring, only to move me to further studies of a Certificate in Sustainable Business, which I started in the fall. There were some short vacations, which combined reconnections with friends and visits to new places of nature and different cultures.
The key theme throughout the year was the refinement, or perhaps as much as redirection, of my professional focus. A life-changing one, in many ways. Reorienting my life, my work (and my website - check it out), and really everything else around what I call Ecological Literacy. This is a way of belonging, of being in the world in such a way that we begin to develop the awareness of ourselves as being a part of the ecology, environment, Nature, and everything else around us. Contrary to what many want us to believe, the earth has not been given to us humans to rule and exploit. And we are not the pilots of Spaceship Earth. We are but one of the many passengers - and probably the only dispensable ones. It is a humbling thought indeed, when we see that any species that is eliminated completely, will have unforeseen - yet profound - implications on Nature; that is, any but us humans. If we were to disappear tomorrow, I am sure Nature will have a deep sigh of relief.
I believe we are facing an important learning in the next immediate years - and not too many of them. How to play by the rules of belonging, how to participate as equals, how to harmonize our lives with the natural environment, and how to be partners in Nature's Web of Life.
"Taken in its entirety, the increase in mankind's strength has brought about a decisive, many-sided shift in the balance of strength between man and the earth. Nature, once a harsh and feared master, now lies in subjection, and needs protection against man's powers. Yet because man, no matter what intellectual and technical heights he may scale, remains embedded in nature, the balance has shifted against him, too, and the threat that he poses to the earth is a threat to him as well." - Jonathan Schell
While some of these learnings might seem daunting (and rightfully so), they don't necessarily have to be such. The key to any change is self-knowing and self-awareness. Knowing who we are, why are we here, and what can we bring forth are questions that many have been exploring for ages. Sometimes, it is easy to get discouraged. Sometimes, we can underestimate what we can do. Perhaps the following story will bring a different perspective on what is possible.
"It is the start that stops most people." - Anonymous
Of course, anyone knows that it is impossible to play a symphonic work with just three strings. I know that, and you know that, but that night Itzhak Perlman refused to know that...
In a time not so far past from here, Itzhak Perlman, the violinist, came on stage to give a concert at Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center in New York City. If you have ever been to a Perlman concert, you know that getting on stage is no small achievement for him. He was stricken with polio as a child, and so he has braces on both legs and walks with the aid of two crutches.
To see him walk across the stage one step at a time, painfully and slowly, is an unforgettable sight. He walks painfully, yet majestically, until he reaches his chair. Then he sits down, slowly, puts his crutches on the floor, undoes the clasps on his legs, tucks one foot back and extends the other foot forward. Then he bends down and picks up the violin, puts it under his chin, nods to the conductor and proceeds to play.
By now, the audience is used to this ritual. They sit quietly while he makes his way across the stage to his chair. They remain reverently silent while he undoes the clasps on his legs. They wait until he is ready to play.
But this time, something went wrong. Just as he finished the first few bars, one of the strings on his violin broke. You could hear it snap - it went off like gunfire across the room. There was no mistaking what that sound meant. There was no mistaking what he had to do.
People who were there that night thought to themselves: "We figured that he would have to get up, put on the clasps again, pick up the crutches and limp his way off stage - to either find another violin or else find another string for this one."
But he didn't. Instead, he waited a moment, closed his eyes and then signaled the conductor to begin again. The orchestra began, and he played from where he had left off. And he played with such passion and such power and such purity as they had never heard before.
You could see him modulating, changing, recomposing the piece in his head. At one point, it sounded like he was de-tuning the strings to get new sounds from them that they had never made before.
When he finished, there was an awesome silence in the room. And then people rose and cheered. There was an extraordinary outburst of applause from every corner of the auditorium. We were all on our feet, screaming and cheering, doing everything we could to show how much we appreciated what he had done.
He smiled, wiped the sweat from this brow, raised his bow to quiet us, and then he said, not boastfully, but in a quiet, pensive, reverent tone, "You know, sometimes it is the artist's task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left."
"Night. You are the mother of all. You existed before all. You are the background, the fabric, the whole underpinning of the universe. You are the mother without a mother. ... And then, new life begins with dawn. ... When you come to the end of a cycle, a new one will begin." - Tao
Happy endings and happy new beginnings!
Simon
