These Are the Times… a rant for this moment

Sometimes we need to put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard and just write! As a writer, I do this daily. I usually do not share these rants but, the following rant came out of a “just write,” session with one of my writing mentors Mirabai Star, who posited the prompt…These are the times…Here is my rant:

These are the times for love. If there ever was a time, it’s… now. If you don’t know what that is you better learn it quick! Without it we’re doomed. If we knew what love was then we wouldn’t be where we are now. We wouldn’t be in this hell hole of white supremacist patriarchy that we have allowed to fester for decades, centuries, millenia. Always under the surface but now blatant and arrogant. In your face, disgusting. We claim overwhelm as a way to retreat and not show up. What does showing up even mean? Is it marching through the streets? Is it putting a sign on your lawn? Is it casting a vote, even if it feels futile, standing in line in Arizona in a MAGA crowd? Does it mean meditating every morning? Is it sitting with my grandson as he plays with his war toys and trying to tell him I don’t think that’s ok? Is it crying into my pillow at night? What do I need to do to show, and be, love in this sad sad world? I don’t have the luxury of time to figure it out. It needs to be now and I just don’t know. Maybe it’s…Be the love you want to see in the world. Touch everything with a gentle spirit. Connect with the truth of your soul. See the roles you play as the trickster parts of the ego trying to convince you that these are your identity. They are not. You are here, in these times, for a reason. These are the times…for Rising Well, to rise like bread. The yeast are the little tragedies that are the crumbs for the soul’s work. Watch how they work to help you rise…these big and little tragedies. They can burn your spirit if you don’t use them as starter for a new paradigm. Punch down the dough and let it rise again. This time, letting the air mingle with the yeast. Let it blow up, like a puffer fish holding its breath….and then form it into loaves to bake…bake them till they are golden. Rising isn’t enough. You need to turn on the heat and use what’s risen to create food for the masses, sustenance for the long road ahead. Take out the loaves and cut them into billions of pieces…enough for each human on the planet. And for the well…this is the deep deep soul. It is that hole we look down into that looks as if there is no bottom, cause there isn’t. We are bottomless holes of soul, yet when we lower our bucket and bring it up again there is water. Yet, when we women gather around the well, the problems of the world can be solved. Yet, when we drink together from that water we become well again, this elixir of life rebirths us into the present moment so we can…rise. This is how we live into these times…rising like phoenixes, drinking from the well of soul, sharing truths together. This is what love looks like. Maybe one day we will rise in the morning and know…all is well. This is the hope that we must hold on to.