I take my coffee outside today to sit under the canopy of green that is the entrance to my house.  A woodpecker drums the trunk of the magnolia tree disturbing a squirrel that skitters across a branch and on to the roof.  Mostly, though, everything is still and green and softly lighted by the not yet risen sun.

I am tormented by the first debate between Donald Trump and Joe Biden, and I have carried that anxiety for several days.  I only watched a few minutes of the debate and almost none of the commentary afterwards, only enough to confirm it was as big a disaster as I thought.  Over the next two days, I tried not to think about it, but this morning, I knew I had to sit with it.  My restlessness drove me outside, an instinct maybe, a good instinct.

As I sit in this slightly wobbly, well weathered Adirondack chair, the anxiety flushes from me.  I dissolve into the living green around me.  It is a sense of oneness and wholeness, a transformation of my awareness of myself as an object unto itself into an ineffable understanding of no self, no separation, only the ever present energy of creation.  Nature does this to me, and I wonder what it means, why it happens.  Should I tell someone?

I hold my favorite coffee mug enjoying the mysterious comfort of having something warm in my hands.  I cross my legs and lean back in my chair resisting the urge to close my eyes.  I do not want to disappear inside myself as I usually do in my meditations.  I want my eyes open to this morning, to the Japanese grass flowing elegantly on the border of the garden, to the green umbrella above my head, to the fertile dirt speckled with leaves and twigs, to the majestic sculpture of the twisted trunks of hundred year old rhododendrons.

If I close my eyes, the voices will begin, the efforts to make sense of what happened at that debate and what might happen because of it.  Noise.  The noise of humans.  The futile discourse of outrage, disgust, and contempt.  I prefer nature’s silence, its obliviousness, its quiet wisdom whispering, “I am”.  There is no separation between me and the life around me, no hierarchy.  Who can claim, especially after that debate, that humans are the pinnacle of evolution?  We are so full of ourselves.  For creatures gifted (or cursed) with this sense of self reflection, we do very little to enhance the beauty around us.  Would it be such a great loss if we succeeded in exterminating ourselves?  

I am not morose.  I am not angry or depressed.  I am filled with a quiet peace in which I find myself asking these questions, wondering, as I contemplate the small wonder of nature in this garden, what gifts do humans bring to this world?  Do we inspire the way nature inspires me?  Does it not seem that in the face of nature’s beauty we have been far better at destroying it than adding to it?  What do I bring to these plants surrounding me in their morning embrace, or if not an embrace, a warm acceptance?  What have I given to them that in any way compares to what they are now, at this moment, giving to me?

The unspoken questions linger loudly in the silence.

The outcome of the debate and the election will have enormous repercussions not only for the United States and the continuation of our democracy, but for every other country on the planet.  If Donald Trump wins, I have no doubt that life will become extremely difficult for many people, mostly those who have always been mistreated and marginalized.  I am aware that this election could result in the elimination of our Constitution as we know it, and, if he succeeds in naming himself a dictator, it is not unlikely that this country will, once again, erupt in violence.  I know these things, and I know that many other people know them as well.   I also know that by saying these things, I will incite some people (including some related to me) to anger and rage.  If this writing were more broadly circulated and read, it is not inconceivable that it could incite people to wish me violence or death.  And yet, it does not change the truth.

I will vote.  I will support candidates dedicated to preserving, protecting, and defending our Constitution and this democracy.  I may or may not succeed in defeating Donald Trump.  Creation has its own plan.  I will not, however, lose hope.  I will not succumb to my baser instincts or slather myself in outrage and disgust.  Rather, this morning I will bear witness to the gift of grace that creation offers even as it refuses to answer my questions or promise solutions.  

I am, as is everything, a reflection of the oneness of creation, a cell in the living body of the universe.  Whatever the outcome of the election, I will witness to this deeper truth even though I cannot fully grasp it.  If nothing else, creation is an unrelenting process of destruction and creation, of death and resurrection.  Today, I know, even if only for the briefest of moments, the limits of what I can do, and I am at peace.