I have struggled for months to find the words, any words, to express the overwhelming despair that has swept my soul as I bear witness to the wide-ranging consequences of the Covid pandemic ravaging the world. What started out this year as just a “simple viral pandemic” has mutated into an insidious pandemic of mind, body, and spirit.
The bitter divisiveness that has taken hold of humanity, drowning out reason and science, is reminiscent of the centuries-old flat vs. round debate about the shape of the earth that rages on to this day. Science deniers choose to believe the rantings of a depraved world leader whose sole agenda is to continue his power grab for at least four more years. A leader who stands on the sidelines scattering buckshot with his shotgun to deflect from his own shortcomings and failures. A president who spends his time peddling dangerous drugs rather than taking a leadership role for the planet to save lives and alleviate the suffering of millions.
To many, I’m sure this sounds like the rantings of a far-left radical. Maybe even a member of the Antifa? But I get ahead of myself because Antifa only became a buzz word from Trump’s twitter feed a few days ago, after the racially-motivated murder of George Floyd by four cops in Minneapolis launched protests across the country, and even across the pond.
My heart weeps. Taking a knee at a football game last year was called a terrorist act until the protests following the murder of George Floyd took over the streets of America. Of course, the violence, looting, and destruction of property is wrong and should be discouraged at all costs. But the underlying cause of stopping racially-motivated violence against black men and women must be heard and must be stopped.
I marched in many protests in the late sixties and early seventies, passionate that my voice be heard standing up for civil rights and the injustices of the Viet Nam war. Protesting is a right of free speech guaranteed by the Constitution. It is healthy for our democracy, allowing the voices from many perspectives to to be heard and a consensus to be reached. Hopefully. Hoping for hope.
If the divisions and spreading hate generated by Covid had not reached a crescendo before, it surely has now. It’s become a black and white world, where you’re either good or you’re bad; you’re right or you’re wrong. It’s all dependent on whose “team” you’re on.
I choose not to live in that world of darkness. K and I take joy in the rainbow of peoples and energies that flow around us, and we consciously walk away from what no longer serves us. But alas, even in a retirement community in a peaceful tropical country, the hatred from afar has managed to travel in the baggage of so many of the expats and somehow pass through customs without challenge.
Yesterday, after a terrifying moment when our security alarm went off for ten minutes, I felt rage that no one reached out to see if we were okay, alive even. In a community that had shared violence in the past, the blaring alarm had to have raised some concerns. I sat in darkness, hoping for hope.
Hoping that there is still humanity in this world, still a modicum of compassion for your fellow man without discrimination and with the integrity of character to act rather than look away. We choose not to participate in or react to the negativity of so many of our fellow expats in paradise. We choose to smile and wave despite their toxic energies, cold shoulders and glowering looks cast in our direction. We will always be there for anyone in need, without question, with love in our hearts, knowing that so long as we walk our talk and live in love and light, our lives will be blessed.
Namaste
Jun. 1, 2020
Judy Richter 