This morning, after long weeks of summer, is the first cool hint of what’s to come. Even so, I watch several hummingbirds on the nasturtium, fattening up for an impossible migration. And on the window right—in front of my eyes—another miracle: a newly woven spider web. Think of it! This world we share continues to hum and shine and blow and die, turning round each day and tilting back and forth over the year.
And we humans? We have again and again broken this world we share. We build fences and from thousands of miles away drop bombs that splat out lives and rally round a band of fools who think they can lead us. We blow up cars full of explosives, rape young girls and kill old men, bury our children. Every single day we do these unthinkable things.
But yesterday I also saw a child sitting, listening to music and watched actors creating magic from nothing; I made plans with friends to plant a tree that could outlive us all, and spoke with a 94-year old friend determined to walk again so she can live a few more years in her home.
These mornings our little town is often wrapped in fog, but, surrounded by a miraculous world of life, I’m not lost. As Amy Lowell said in her poem, September, 1918,”
“For I have time for nothing
But the endeavour to balance myself
Upon a broken world.”
Tomorrow is designated by the United Nations as International Day of Peace, a good place for me to rededicate myself to life and peace in an effort to find balance in a broken world.