Walking with Sadness

As I sit sequestered with a mediocre coffee and a fabulous view, I count my blessings. I am in San Diego, one of my favorite cities, with an open window, in bare feet while birds chirp and sing and call out in a sunrise concert. I've been here two days celebrating doing not much of anything, but am aware we are at war.

Some things are necessary: food, water, and shelter for all living beings is a must. I would argue as I head into a conference on ending homelessness this morning to volunteer, shelter in the form of a stable place to meet, eat, sleep and regroup is essential for mental and physical health. (DYK that homeless people have a 3.5x higher rate of early mortality than those of us fortunate to have a solid roof over our heads?

Some things are not necessary, and I would argue that war is one of those things. I willingly acknowledge that we are biological animals and war is in our history going back for however long a person wants to look. And I also know that we can be better. We can be kind, cooperative, empathic and compassionate. We choose not to be.

So, I was quite distressed, though not surprised, to wake up Saturday to the news the US and Israel had struck Iran. And worse, this war was entered by a dangerous man who assumed full power to call the attack, without the approval of the legislative body tasked with making these types of decisions.

I will end that discussion there and move on to the profound sadness that engulfed my body as I began a sunrise walk along the water. As I allowed myself to interact with a mallard duck that was splashing in a puddle several feet from the group, a crow perched atop a signpost, and a bunch of parrots yelling at me from "their" tree, I watched the colors change in the sky, boats begin to gather, along with fisher people along the pier, and imagined walking later in the afternoon along the long stretch of beach on Coronado Island, letting the sadness seep out into the water and the sea creatures buffet it into nothingness.

(Later, after Jesus the Uber driver cruised through downtown traffic to deposit us in a massive crowd in front of the massive and historic Hotel Del Coronado, I stepped out of my sandals and walked through the fine sand into the water, only to be called out by life guards in a truck driving along the beach with a bullhorn urging everyone to avoid the water because of "high bacterial content" and "raw sewage from the Tijuana River, coming up from the south.") Sigh.

Despite that, the water had done it's job, from sunrise walk to afternoon stroll, and despite the unending sadness that sits in my gut and heart every day, nature does not fail to call me back to our oneness. In my mind, and in my heart, and I am certain in yours too, if you call it out, there is always the knowledge that We are One and that we are only as strong and capable of thriving as the weakest one of us. I hope that you will go out with this knowledge every day and help us be better. One at a time we can bring balance to the weak ugliness that is part of our collective nature by extending abundant strength and beauty in the form of kindness and compassion.