Utopian Heart

I just can't keep myself from dreaming.  I know modern life is often strange and brutish.  Politicans, bankers, family members and neighbors add their own twisting truth to this description on a regular basis. Would-be dream bashers, they are successful in their moment.

Many of the good people I know, when at the mercy of these unlovely forces, simply retreat from their natural optimism. An optimism that can feel increasingly foolish in the face of power-maddened bullies. They have not yet descended into what-the-hell-let-it-blow nihilism but they have certainly become stationary.

Standing still isn't such a bad thing.  The renaissance poet Milton on his blindness:  those who stand and wait also serve.  In standing still I am at least able to not add to a bad vibe. If I don't throw the ball back the game isn't on.

Be kind. Be kind. Be kind.  What a mantra.  A dream, a dream at the very heart of the idea of utopia. I don't think science is going to save me or anyone else.  I don't think politics matter much anymore to anyone except politicians.  I don't think the environmental groups I have come to know care much about anything other than who belongs to the group.

Our dreams.  The willingness to dream without knowing the how of the dream, to let it come through one imagination.  Yours. Mine.  I have no idea how this could possibly work to turn the tide of this increasingly unlovely human world but I think, truly, it is all we have. Stand and wait. Dream. Refuse to surrender hope.

After her long absence, I saw the doe grazing in the meadow last night.  Her delicacy stays with me in memory so strongly I forget how large and powerful her body is.  I see her slip through the green grasses shimmering golden brown and forget how sharp her hooves.