A universe of stars fill our eyes
When we collide
Like heaven has exploded inside
--k.d. lang
The last day of my class on “The Emerging Wisdom Culture” found us participating in a modified Joanna Macy ritual. Creating an inner circle, seated and facing an outer circle, we began. Breathing is always a most important first step. Breathing in deeply and then out with the “ah” of Ya Hadi we created a sacred circle of sound that contained us within a web of safety.
Those seated in the outside circle were representing the present; those seated in the inner circle portrayed humanity one hundred years in the future. I was one of the ones representing the future. “This is the question those in the future are asking you who are in the present. It is one of three. The future cannot speak; only listen to your ancestors’ remarks,” our guide said.
“What was it like back then, in the midst of climate change and war? What were you feeling when you saw people fighting each other, not appreciating their environment, not getting along with other cultures and peoples?” The woman sitting opposite me had bright blue eyes. She was so sincere and intense. “We had hard times, but we also had hope,” she began.
“There was a hope that a higher consciousness was within our reach. Within us was a belief that shone through, here and there throughout the world, always expanding, that a divinity was being expressed and amplified. The more people got together, the more they noticed that this was a time of transition. We weren’t satisfied with the way things were. We were looking for something that would bring us together on a planetary level, that would benefit all peoples, all beings.”
“The outer circle will now rotate to the right.” A brown-eyed Hawaiian was now sitting opposite me. My tongue seemed glued to my mouth, unable, and unwilling to speak within the intense atmosphere that had been created by the sincerity and earnestness of the participants. “Your descendants ask, ‘what kind of things gave you joy at this time? Where did you find your inspiration and hope?’ ”
The answer came quickly. “Our joy was real because of you. You, the children of the future, were our hope and our motivation. We never gave up thinking that you deserved the best we could offer. Whenever we thought of giving up, knowing that you were a reality made it possible to keep moving, to keep sacrificing.
“We had pain too, but our grief became a point of unity. We would rally around our mutual suffering finding new and deeper sources of compassion and inspiration, knowing that the one thing we didn’t want was for others to suffer, for our world to suffer. We wanted to create something better for you.”
I was in tears by the time an older woman sat across from me and took my hands. Granddaughter, she called me. A sob escaped my lips. I was the future, looking at my ancestors with so much love and appreciation for the difficulties they endured in order to bring me into existence in a world that lived and thrived. The question asked this time was, “What did you do during this time to help change things?”“I often felt that I didn’t do enough,” the woman who portrayed my grandmother said. “That is until I realized that even the smallest things were sacred and could be offered for the sake of the future. I would find myself cutting carrots and thinking of you, knowing that my efforts to appreciate this food and prepare it with love for someone I loved, added to the foundation of love I was building for the future.”
I could feel this grandmother palpably swelling with the love for her partner, her children, grandchildren—and me. As she grew larger before my eyes, I saw in her the hope for the future. We don’t have to be the wisest, or the most powerful. We don’t have to be in positions of influence or control. We just need to let our own light shine, so that one by one, that brilliance will turn into a raging fire lighting the way into the future.
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