TRICKLE DOWN

Sitting in a sheltered valley in Montana, the catostrophes of the stock market have up till now reflected the general greed that pervades the economics of the country. Having expected this downfall for nearly thirty years, I felt distant, bemused, a wry observer,until yesterday.

Surrounding us is a community of friends from years and years who have uplifted, supported and generally companioned my husband and I through dozens of changes. I would hope all my readers could have this kind of matrix in which to flourish. Yesterday one couple of this group arrived to say that they had lost all of their savings. What's more, nearly everyone in the circle had also experienced this loss, and all were in shock, the grieving barely begun. My heart stopped, and then opened wider and wider to encompass their berift spirits.

There is little that occurs "at the top" that won't eventually occur "at the bottom." As above, so below. Thich Nat Hahn wrote a stunning poem about the rapist living within us all, as well as the victim. This is the oneness we continue to posit, but it's the part we don't want to embrace. The surrender that is necessary to truly embrace the extremes seems to me a three-fold process: grieving (in all it's colors), experiencing unconditional love available in physical and non-physical forms, and finally generating a deep belief that a Divine Plan already exists to move forward.

We often hear folks say, "life was never the same after that day." Life is never the same after every day, we just try to make it so, for convenience. But when conditions are so drastic, and we are shaken to our very core, then the prayer for courage needs to be sung, courage to take each step with love, and not with fear. And may there be hands to hold as the prayer is sung, and loving eyes to gaze into, and open hearts to heal our wounded places.

So the crash has come home even to this little snowy Montana valley. As of yesterday, my son is unemployed (a single father with two teens), and so also his girlfriend (a single mother of one teen). My dearest retired friends wonder how they'll make ends meet, and those elders with mortgages quake even more. While their perseverance may falter for a few days in light of this new information, I will hold them and the vision we all share of fellowship, gratitude and courage. And I'll get the crock pot going for an unforgetable potluck.