So many lovely simple things – I walked from the crisp cold spring/winter morning into the warmth of the little cabin and felt the electric heater doing its remarkable thing – electricity! water! coffee! cabin! – simple things which I take for granted but which, like all of life, are fragile. I feel a daily gratitude for their existence. We have always known that our basic comforts are fragile but we have pushed that knowledge far into the back of our minds. Now it is up front, and that’s wonderful because accompanying this awareness of fragility is a deep gratitude for every precious moment of this magnificent life!

How have we been fooled by empty words? Words like: “financial security” or “financial independence.” This kind of security that we have been taught is the essence of our working life has, in truth, isolated us almost completely from the true security of existence – that of belonging to the natural world in all of its diversity and to each other in all of our diversity. – also to the Great Mystery, the Tao, from which we emerge and to which we will return. We become isolated and alone, behind walls and gates, needing no one or no thing. Sad and tragic.

Our own images of the future are so limited. How can we possibly know what, exactly, the Flow of Tao is doing at the moment or where it will lead? It is important not to let our fear shape our imaginations. We need minds that are open to new possibilities, not that cling to past illusions.

Dystopian imaginations dominate our collective consciousness. Anything else is called, “unrealistic, pie-in-the-sky, new age pixie dust.” What a tragic misconception. Instead of the literally limitless possibilities present in the quantum field of Tao, we have confined ourselves to the handful of dystopian scenarios and repeated them over and over in our literature, films, and art until they have become our default future.

It is time for utopian imagination fo arise; to let our repressed and hidden hopes emerge in spite of the ridicule they have received in the past. This will require effort on our part. In a sense we will have to learn a whole new language. Retraining our brains will involve practice and discipline but we can do it.

Let our minds open, change, and welcome rather than close, cling, and reject. During these times of stress we are vulnerable to our fears. We cannot let them determine our lives and the lives of our great-great-grandchildren.

Imagine the Tao as an infinite filed in which all possible futures lie. Imagine the one you most deeply, in your heart of hearts, desire. Imagine it vividly and in detail. Clean air and water available to all. Healthy food grown locally around the globe. Health centers, hospitals, schools and universities available to everyone rather than more jails and slums. Creative work instead of jobs. Forests instead of deserts. Picture it. Keep it central. Don’t let fear crowd it out.
I wonder what one might see
looking in a hundred years from now.
I will be, perhaps, an ancestral name, wondered at by youngsters,
and a photo might be displayed somewhere, somehow.
“He lived at the time of change, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did,” the reply would be,
a time not so far out of memory
of stories told by grandparents.

“Do you remember?”
“No, I’m not quite that old,
but my grandfather told me tales,
hard tales to believe, but he swore they were true.”
“We’re grateful for him, aren’t we dad?”
“Yes, we are.”