DAILY Thoughts & words stolen from a day of magic when America stepped out from under dark clouds.
I hear the heartbeat of this land again….lub-dub, lub-dub. How far we wandered from that sound, from our true song. In the darkness of frightening cycles, the gifted come to help us grow new heart-muscle, and stronger voice. Their ears opened before ours, hearing far off clarions of hope. Lub-dub, lub-dub…”Swing low sweet chariot, comin’ for to carry me home, swing low sweet chariot…” Now, we begin to hear the will, the hope, and the way of ‘optimism with realism.’
“Tis the gift to be simple, tis the gift to be free, tis the gift to come down where we ought to be”
The old rancor, the old wankers, even the old lions are leaving because this new frontier asks we step up, step out and grow big-hearted again. It asks we link arms and march on together. “Seventy Six trombones led the big parade, a hundred and six clarinets… ” Every last one in ‘this patchwork-quilted country’ heard a new song today. Some of the grand old lions are ready to pass the torch. They have taken us as far as they could, and honor haloes their shedding manes. Others, inherited their blind obtuseness and simply play out their tuneless time. We let them. We allowed their soul-less song to be ours. The keening winds of sorrow and challenge are our inheritance. Now we own responsibility in switching course, sounding the alarm. Lub-dub, lub dub….. “From the Halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli…”
We are touched by memories of other hard times, blood memory of ancestors moving through us. Lub-dub, lub-dub….”Oh God our help in ages past, our hope for years to come…” You see it when someone smiles, touching ten million hearts. You have to know ancestor-blood flows through that smile, keep-saking the sacred in the mundane. They have come to lift the torch for what was desperately yearned, and fought for. The light is passed. Too many of us remain stuck in the bloodshed and waste of the past. But those who have ‘a certain measure of audacity,’ those that can turn and face what was un-speakable, theirs is our pilgrimage. Lub-dub, lub dub… “My Country Tis Of Thee sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.”
Today, faithful to our founding fathers, with fire in the belly, listening to our hearts, lub-dub, lub dub…filling our lungs, we sing … “This land is your land, this land is my land, from the redwood forests to the gulf stream waters…..”
‘May the force be with us.’
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