by Christine Maccabee
“Survival Time”
There are so many issues and problems in our faces every day that it is nearly impossible for us to navigate them all, either mentally, physically, or spiritually. I say “nearly” because, personally, I need to know what is happening in the world, and I believe most people do as well. However, the clamor of TV news and radio talk shows can become oppressive after a while, so I simply turn them off. Then, they go back on in short order, so I can keep up with problems related to Florence, such as toxic waste in the water from coal ash and hog farms; or the latest problems in Syria, our own refugee problems, the inner workings of our government, etc. etc.
Survival is definitely different things for different people. I am not hungry, while others are starving. I have a comfortable bed while others are sleeping on hard concrete. I have clean well water, while others have no water at all, except if they are lucky enough to have bottled water from some charity. You get the gist. Basically, most of us are spoiled by our comfortable lifestyles; yet, I believe everyone struggles with something. Everyone has personal problems they must deal with in order to survive. Rich or poor—and everyone in between—we all can count on something to happen to throw us off-kilter, and then we must be strong or clever enough to survive our capsizing boat.
I am a great admirer of creatures other than human, and I am guilty of worrying as much about them as I do people. I wonder how this last hurricane Florence affected the populations of bees and butterflies and rivers, which are so vulnerable and yet so essential for the health of Earth’s ecosystems. Fluctuations in weather affect them as much as humans, and yet all of us are resilient to varying degrees. A young child or a Veteran living through wartime trauma may or may not overcome it according to their own inner resources or whether or not they get help from others.
So, survival is variable, and messy. I have seen bumble bees drowning due to torrential rain, and I have saved some. Then there are the larva of certain butterflies rotting in their pupae beneath cold, month-long precipitation, which I cannot save. I weep for children separated from their parents at the border, and the parents who will never recover due to the loss of those children. Somehow, however, life goes on. The sun comes out and a few bees smart enough to hide out during the onslaught of rain can be seen buzzing and feeding on golden rod flowers. Then, my heart rejoices when I see a lone swallowtail flying gracefully and gratefully from flowers that I provide, flowers which also survived the storm. As for people, well…
A friend of mine said that survival of people in difficult situations mostly depends on others to reach out to them, or to reach back when they reach out for help. This is a mutual give-and-take that takes a lot of heart and courage. It takes courage to reach out and humility to receive. It takes courage to survive together, but it takes heart to even want to in the first place.
I suppose I am a survivor for sure. It has been a long, rocky life, and even though my boat is still unsteady, I have friends—and even angels—who come, and have come, to my rescue. All of us have, I hope. Now, however, it is more important than ever to help others in this fragile web of life to survive, be they human or bee or sea turtle or so many other entities in deep trouble. It heartens me to read about efforts being made to rid the oceans of plastic, or people challenging the use of toxic pesticides and herbicides, or people eating lower on the food chain. Happily, I am allergic to pork and beef.
The will to survive even our own inventions, not all of which are life giving, must remain strong. The north pole is melting, so what are we going to do about it? Drive less perhaps? Maybe there is not a whole lot we as individuals can do to change the ways of the world, but we can try by joining with others who also care. It is never too late to reach out.
It is survival time.
