Monday, May 23, 2011

The Thing with Feathers

The most exciting thing that happened this week is that I tasted a strawberry at the Union Square Market. If you think that makes me an overly obsessive foodie, you must not be aware that my fresh fruit supply has been storage apples for the past several months. There by the sorrel and the pea shoots...angels descended from Heaven to sing praises to God[dess] for the joy of the flavour of that ripe, soft, red fruit.

It was a bright spot even brighter in comparison to the continued cloudy, foggy, drizzly rain that has continued unabated since we last spoke. Just when we think we can't keep our spirits up another second, something comes along to remind us what hope tastes like: The first strawberry of Spring.

If, instead of looking at the five-day forecast again, or counting on my fingers the number of days since my skin has felt the sun, I can stay with the one breath happening right now, a whole blooming orb of hope will open up right under my feet. No matter what your fight, there are reasons to believe you will win.

I am so proud to say that my Catholic Church will be present at the Prospect Park Gay Pride events, and not to hand out fire and brimstone hate-pamphlets, but to let it be known that we are a welcoming community. In the face of so much fear, resistance, and judgement, that is hope brighter than the juiciest strawberry.

In our ocean of unsustainability and willful blindness to what our everyday habits are costing the animals we share this planet with, people are asking the Girl Scouts to stop using palm oil in their cookies. Cage-free eggs are capturing 6% of the market share. Wal-mart is no longer selling dairy products from cows that were treated with growth hormone.

Small, small things: single green shoots rising out of acres of ash. And maybe this rain is what we need to water them.

Live Omily,

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