As the day winds down in a blaze of sunshine, I’m thinking is there a moral obligation to ponder one’s place in the universe?
I was listening to what’s going on in Sri Lanka, and it struck me full in the soul that I am so fortunate to be living in a place where my family is not threatened. I don’t have to worry about gunshots, bombs, insurrections, military reprisals, lack of food and water, no home, belongings lost, threat of danger everywhere.
But how do I reconcile what I have with what others don’t? How should a person think and act and feel with the knowledge of such an unfair world? Is the only way to respond to this helplessness and selfishness and thankfulness that I feel to just think about such things, not shut them out, and let it exist alongside my fear of my own death?
Oh, the wind that blows through me, singing, Not I, Not I, but the other I am not.
I find comfort in this, though, by Czesław Milosz: “There are nothing but gifts on this poor, poor Earth.”