Margaret Wheatly, in her book “Who Do We Choose to Be?” argues that our culture is at the end of its time. Every civilization, she says, goes through a predictable cycle. Wheatley places us firmly in the “decadent” phase, which is the last step before chaos and dissolution. Wealth, celebrity, and entertainment are central; compassion, courage, integrity and relationships take a seat way in the back.
Wheatley’s analysis is not exactly new: if you interviewed many of the people who live in this area, they would echo her conclusions. Most of us chose to live here because our values differ from those of contemporary culture. Even the folks who arrive seeking only outdoor bliss stay, if they stay, because of relationships. The wealth of this area is found in our communion: with humans, with water, with rocks and trees.
Two months ago, our beloved elder Eloise Charet-Calles spoke briefly to the Healthy Communities Harvest Dinner. She reminded those assembled that we made it through the summer’s fires because of community. She reminded us of all the ways we had supported each other even when we ourselves were anxious and suffering. She noted that the thing we need to do more than anything is to take care of each other. And by each other, she meant not just humans, but the more-than-human world, this beautiful and generous earth.
This week, as Eloise was laid to rest, the world was erupting. Down south, the US pulled out of the Paris Agreement on Climate, closed the border, took away the rights of some babies and most queer people, and removed protections for poor communities impacted by toxic manufacturing. Up here, preparations for the recession and job loss that our neighbors seem determined to visit on us are underway, but most of our leaders seem engaged in political slanging matches. None of our systems seem stable—because they aren’t.
I don’t think we should waste too much time dithering about whether life is going to get more difficult. It will. Wealth and power are now concentrated in a few hands, and those hands are gripping as tightly as they can to their privilege. Value is now determined by whether something or someone can be monetized. The poor, the different, the messy, the immigrant, the refugee, the powerless, the wild will lose.
Where does this leave us? In the days to come, each of us is going to be faced with deciding our own response to this miasma of fear and anxiety. Whether we are the ones suffering, the ones helping, or both, we have a part to play. How we play that part matters. Maybe our actions won’t change the broader trajectory of these times. But those actions will make a difference for the beings and places we are in contact with today.
As Eloise reminded us in word and deed, it is possible to act with integrity even when you are afraid. Generosity, kindness, courage, a fierce care for the vulnerable: these are the best antidotes to fear and anxiety that exist.