Right about now I’m thinking the perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon is to lie down under the blue sky with noise cancelling headphones and listen to Mozart’s Lacrimosa until I cry.

It’s so sorrowful and so exquisite and so expansive that every time I hear it that I have to fight the urge to be swept away by it like a paper boat out on the ocean.

How can I resist the bleeding beauty of the the world when I hear those zephyr-like strings caressing my soul like a feather being gentled down my cheek?

How can I deny the beautiful pain of being alive and the divine artistry of the blood rushing in my ears?

Shame and pride well up in me and begin warring at the mere thought of being human, and all that entails.

I remember the pain and the death and the slaughter humanity seems to be so good at perpetuating, and vainly hope that I could denounce being human and become a dolphin or a peregrine instead.

But my responsibility is to bear the ignominy of my ancestors, take ownership of the butchery perpetuated by the human-industrial complex I’m party to, and to be the wall that stands against the tide of those lost souls with that never-ending appetite for profit at all costs.

I am but one pebble, one brick in that wall, and I cannot do this alone.

But I will stand and protect those I can from the monstrous mouth that would devour us all, fight for those without a voice or a choice in the face of a voracious form of capitalism that hungers after growth for the sake of blind growth, and consumption in excess to the point of decay.

I am but one woman, but by having a small business I can create a point of divergence, a place where we together become the rock in the dirt that jolts the cart of destiny onto a better path for the world.


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