Green Tribe of Belonging

It has been truly shocking these last couple of weeks to see so many disasters happening around the world that are tied to climate change: flooding, runaway fires, tornadoes, droughts, melting glaciers, hurricanes, air quality hazards, record-breaking heat. Even though most of us still have safe places to be, it is becoming clearer that the future of our planet is in jeopardy. When years ago scientists started predicting that climate change was going to have an adverse effect on us, they didn't predict that these things would happen so quickly. And back then, a large proportion of our country's population did not believe these forecasts. Even now, I know of too many good smart people who reject the concept of climate change, blaming it on the liberals' over-active imaginations, seeing the warning from the liberal branch of our society as arrogantly attempting to discredit common folks' lifestyles.  To me, this refusal to accept that our planet is changing is a defensive

 I've been working on a longer post that seems to be taking more time to come together. In the meantime, I'm going to write a short piece about what's happened to me today. I was sitting quietly in Friends Meeting this morning. It was an unusually small group, all of us in the last half of our lives. And by this time, we have acquired pretty dependable personalities and attitudes. We have discovered our various tribes, the groups we feel comfortable with. And sometimes we can get stuck in our own opinions. It can be hard to be open-minded. I've been trying lately to be more understanding and compassionate toward people who irritate me or who believe very differently than I do. We never know what experiences have made them the way they are. And though there wasn't anyone in this category in Friends Meeting this morning, I found myself imagining us all as babies. It made me smile. We get so into our adult stance that it is really enlightening to remember that we all s

One Night Stand Green and gangly, growing in its huge pot my cactus friend is living on the front porch, battle-scarred from being pushed through doors, yet still reaching up, long branches following the sun. She’s a family member, this southern specimen. We’ve shared a home for many years. In winter she sits stolidly by the south window until warming temperatures invite her back outside. And now, mid-summer, her big night approaches. She has already pushed out 5 pendulous buds and at dusk, some night soon, they will begin to open. Huge, intricate, spectacular blooms, and by morning they’ll be gone. I wonder what it’s like for this long-lived friend living, growing, waiting for 364 days a year and then on one single night under the moon’s glow she spends her entire self on one miraculous performance.