Careening in the background, uncontrollably and at a breakneck, toward the mid-autumnal new moon – and its priestess-goddess and all she and it might portend – the question of the hour is whether the dawn is the most personal or the most impersonal of all the phenomena of wonder to which we are regularly and often unknowingly exposed.
Whatever the answer, whatever the meaning, here we are, in this transition moment, this end-and-beginning time; we no longer sleep, yet we may not yet be awake. We no longer rest, yet the plot of what is to be the tale of this upcoming day has not yet begun to be written. If fortunate enough to be caught in this moment at all, to not let this moment slip by as it does nearly every day, let’s pause.
Perhaps let’s even pause for peace – yet I cannot print those words without qualifying them.
Many things can easily be dreamed, but with eyes open all thoughts of pacifism and consistent gentleness are plainly seen as imaginary. Both our age and likely this very day demand that we fight. A steady warrior’s spirit is in order, and we must not hesitate to call upon it, to make it our own.
Thus we are able to stand up. Thus we are able to withstand despair in order that we may one day transcend and transform injustice, that we may one day no longer have to defend ourselves from oppressors, aggressors, and other enemies.
Yet even as we prosecute our deepest righteousness, we must be careful not to become detached from solid ground, from firm foundation, and switch abruptly or gradually from slave to Pharaoh. Fights we will fight. Injuries we may inflict on the way. But we mustn’t ourselves become oppressors, place their crowns upon our heads, or make their spirits our own.
Gaze on the dawn and rise up above all this human strife and struggle. See it all for what it is. We’ll all be fighting today, we may be slain, but may we yet avoid the heart attack and cancer that comes with the poison of blind fury and meaningless, fiery hate. When you are not compelled to fight, go in peace.