I sat down to write of the End of America. "America Is Over; Deal With It" was my title. And I feel it and believe it and can tick off the long list of convincing reasons and developments proving our great experiment is not only dying, but already dead.
But I could not write of the end of my country today. It was too depressing; the list simply refused to roll off my fingers. Though I believe it is true, Death of America is not what I want to write today.
I want to write of faith.
To offer praise and gratitude to Goddess and God for a rare blue sky in a Western Oregon February morning.
To feel the beauty in the rain I know will soon fall, likely before I make it out to the sunshine.
To believe government-by-the-people was divinely inspired and that divine creations cannot be destroyed by men.
To know in my bones our right to pursue happiness really was given by our blessed creators as inalienable and that somehow, some way those systematically trying to appropriate the material means of happiness for themselves alone will be stopped. Or simply stop, remembering their own faith (and kindergarten teacher) that shared blessing is the only road to real bliss.
I have no faith today. But Faith is the only way; write about it anyway.
I want to write of Hope.
To believe divine principles of love and light will revive themselves brightly and soon enough to shine away the dark before it completes its destructive work.
That the masses being divided and trodden today will rise up in solidarity tomorrow to reclaim peacefully and compassionately the people-based nation and world they created and were working to perfect before this latest darkness crept in.
I want to believe that the well-attended and powerful, rural citizen-created Iraq War Town Halls held in Four of Oregon's Five Congressional Districts this week portend a world-wide, grassroots, dedicated movement for peace and harmony.
I want to imagine our leaders and the powerful will be inspired by (not just cynically co-opt) our mass movement to recreate lost principles and structures of justice and resume our suspended march to expand the deepest notions of justice to all of humanity.
I want to believe that the great vision and words of Jefferson, Lincoln, the Roosevelts, the Kennedys and King will cease being distorted to camouflage tyranny and violence and resume their rightful role to guide our actions, found our principles, forge our institutions and restore our dignity.
I do not feel this hope today. But Hope is the only way; write about it anyway.
Bruce is 46 year-old father of one, stepfather of three and grandfather of two, who left a lucrative law practice at a large national law firm to work, advocate and write for social justice and equality and find a way to incorporate a spiritual life into the material world. He now struggles along to make a decent living while holding true to his deepest principles in Portland Oregon.
