Parables for Crumbling Stones
We are graspers of oceans. No longer visionaries, we want to hold on to its vastness and anchor it in our culture. How to hold on to the ocean?
The wise say, “One holds on by letting go.” Yes, let its power and beauty flow through the streets, clean the ruined foundations and crumbling monuments to greed and failure. The schools of fish will know how to swim in its current and will know the humility of non-possession.
But humans who will live in the future do not want a society of leftover flotsam and jetsam, or their lives cast wantonly upon stark shores. They seek the map of the way to the new land and wish to pour the water into the vessels of their dreams.
The ocean cannot be contained, but the guides point out that the ocean exists in its tiniest molecule. That one can hold, one can be, and connect it to other molecules to build community.
Arjuna, the great warrior stood between the two armies and was confused. What battles to fight? To whom pledge allegiance? Cast out the traditions and the teachers of old, or move to new and unknown territory?
Victorious warriors know where to take their stand. Today each battle must be an affirmation, must manifest the glories of diverse souls, woven into tapestries of the spirit. Weapons of destruction must be forsaken, for their time is past. The new time is of nurture and respect for possibility.
The old forms are spent and will decay of their own uselessness and lack of life. Organizations will crack providing the soil for new organisms. Fighting against the old ways and enemies will only energize them. Better to create the new and use the old for fertilizer.
Conflict is now the struggle of germination and birth in the creative celebration of diversity. Diversity is the treasure house of our biological and cultural heritage, essential for life and community.
Choose battles wisely – they may open doors of opportunity rather than produce prisons constraining the human spirit. The battle cry of the soul is compassion for all beings and protection for all truths.
Justice is no longer blind. Schemers of old tied a blindfold around her eyes tricking the people into believing in the impartiality of judgment. They made her blindness desirable!
The materialistic fog that enveloped her, while she, unseeing, was rendered useless, made of her a marginalized figure of duplicity rather than an embodiment of unprejudiced balance. Her scales were used to weigh the bribes of the guilty, making the other dish useless, empty of the unvoiced defense of the innocent.
Beware! Justice is now unmasked! She wields her sword and will electrify those hungry for a fair hearing with the lightning of united voices. Their eyes and ears are everywhere! Sounds of songs, poems and drums resound; verses of light and life announce the way forward.
Now, Justice looks upon the travesties done in her name, the prostitution of her virtue. Her uncovered eyes see the rats, which in darkness have gnawed the texts of our sacred values as people.
She will take her rightful place once more with eyes wide open. Neither fear nor greed will have a voice in her court. Not revenge, not spite, not cruelty, not national security will pass for evidence. Her eyes will see the future and her lips will give wisdom and comfort. We will move beyond punishment to deal with neglect and we will heal the pain.