Let’s Stop It

Lughnasa                                           Waning Harvest Moon

Death.  We generally agree it should come to us unbidden, at a time unknown and in a manner uncertain.  Cultures sanction the unwilling death of another, outside of war, as murder, the taking of life.

Laws provide penalties for murder.  They vary in length of prison time and occasionally in type, the instances of capital punishment.

Today in the news are two different executions, one in Texas and one in Georgia.  The first killed a white supremacist who attached a black Texan to his truck and drove until he died.  The second was a black man accused of killing a guard.  Many, many people had become convinced of his innocence.

Now both men have moved past the pale of earthly justice.  Their penalties render them forever beyond forgiveness, findings of innocence or redemption.

Here is my question.  Since their deaths were unwilling and outside of war, can the state be held as anything less than a murderer?

We have the rituals of justice, the patina of equity, but the rolls of those executed tell a different story.  It is a punishment most often meted out in the South and often, too often, to poor people and again too often, to poor people of color.

How we can turn aside this culture of death and state sanctioned murder is unclear to me.  I wish it could be done.  I’m sad tonight about the deaths of both of these men, just as I was sad to hear of the death of James Byrd Jr and would have been sad had I heard of the death of the guard.  I’m sadder still that I live in a time and a nation that cannot see itself through the eyes of those it kills.

 

Changes

Lughnasa                                                  Waning Harvest Moon

May I present Autumn?  It comes to us in russets and golds, grays and rain, with some chill and occasional warmth.  Autumn continues our seasonal review, following the spectacular summer with its heat and its emphasis on differing shades of green, a color wheel of blooms and food.

Autumn, like our earlier season, Spring, is a time of change, the gradual transition from the heat and bombast of the growing season to the bleak outer landscapes of the fallow months.

Autumn also marks the beginning of the academic year, a moment of new beginnings, a springtime of the inner world.  This part of the season has its own holiday, Michaelmas, the holy day for the Archangel Michael, and the traditional opening of the English academic year.

In my life change has blown in with the cold rain.  Mark will leave us sometime in the next few days, before the end of October.  The growing season has wound down with only potatoes, beans, leeks and chard left in the garden.  A long vacation grows closer by the day, less than a month away.

There is, too, a growing sense that a major life change may be imminent.  Just what it will be is unclear, though it feels like retirement may be in the cards, joining Kate in her journey beyond the world of work.  How would that manifest in my life, long ago cast off from the port marked Employment?

Leaving behind the era of productive engagement with the world feels premature for me, but a new freedom may emerge.  It may longer be necessary to lash myself to the mast while sailing between the Charybdis of success and the Scylla of ambition.

Mystery.  The once hidden ocean of mystery lies beyond the current horizon.  And I’ve already set sail.