When I was a young child, perhaps 4 years of age, I purposely killed an ant just to do it. To this day, almost 60 years later, I carry guilt over that senseless act.
I believe in corporate responsibility and as a member of society at large I have to take responsibility for my part in all wrongs; slavery, greed, theft, genocide, discrimination, pollution, over consumption, etc. No, I didn't own slaves, nor have I ever approved of such practices, but as a descendant of the human race, I can't claim total innocence either. That goes for every other inhumane act perpetuated on another member of our species or on those animal and insect members of the universe that we share.
I would also apply this to any religious affiliation which I have held or continue to hold in my lifetime. Those of us who believe that our particular flavor of religion, or system of belief, is all right and all perfect are all wrong. The one thing I have learned as I age, is that the more I learn, the less I know. I know that I cannot explain the universe, I cannot explain why the sky is blue, and I cannot explain why children continue to starve in a world capable of feeding them. I cannot explain a world where profit and greed seem to outweigh the rights of the poor and the hungry.
At these times I have to look to the little things for reassurance that all is well with life. Bees. We seem, in this country, to have declared war upon these tiny workers for the plant world while ignoring the fact that without them our entire food chain will collapse.
When I returned from a long, unplanned time away from home my backyard garden was very overgrown. The broccoli and the bok choi had gone to seed. My husband, much to his credit, had refused to pull the plants since they were covered in thousands of tiny yellow flowers and had twice daily visitors of hundreds of honey bees. Now, we haven't seen honey bees in any numbers for years in our yard and I had grieved for our world at their loss. The sight of hundreds of happy, busy bees swarming our organic blossoms was indeed a sublime joy. It wasn't until the flowering was spent and the bees had moved on that we finally pulled the plants to make room for the next crop.
Such a brief, but blessed visit has renewed my faith in the survival of healthy life -- in spite of our corporate, self-righteous humanity.
BLD
