Have you ever thought about the word “time”? I don’t mean the time of day, I mean the way we use the word to describe an era, a generation, a time in history. What about “all time”? The eternity of humans on earth.
I picture a river. I’m barefoot, on the bank of a mature and substantial river running from my left to my right. It’s mostly calm, greenish blue water with some faster moving spots too. And it makes that wonderful sound that rivers make. It burbles and splashes and ripples - sounds of currents I can’t see. It goes around lazy bends from time to time but it stretches as far as I can see in either direction. I walk in at the shallow river’s edge and it feels perfect. Refreshing but not cold. Warm enough, but not tepid.
Now imagine that the river represents all of humanity. To our left, all of our past. Every human who ever lived on the earth. All of the honorable and divine moments of human kindness, generosity, ingenuity, love. All of those humans whose names we will never know and who will not be remembered. Every single human who chose good over evil has shaped our world into what it is today and has helped get us here. Each one is admirable and I’m so grateful to them for the gift of this moment. Our moment.
Deep below the surface of our river is the muck of nastiness. Humans who choose to kill or harm or steal. Or profit from the suffering of others. Humans who choose fear and hate. Humans who lie or who are unkind. We all know what we are capable of when we are at our worst. Our river is so strong that it can handle this relatively small bit of muck. Too much muck and it will threaten the health of the river and we will need a massive cleanup project to avoid losing it entirely, so we all keep a close eye on it. We understand that we don’t own it; rather, we are temporary custodians and we need to ensure that it is healthy and strong for those who come after us.
Where I stand in our river, my feet are in the muck. They aren’t submerged, and I am free to move around, but I can feel it. I feel the revulsion as its cold clamminess squishes between my toes. But I stand atop it, knowing the worst. I learn from their mistakes and I choose kindness.
Now let’s look to our right. Future generations of humanity spread out as far as we can see on our same winding waterway. Immediate futures that we can make educated guesses about. Distant futures that we cannot even imagine and that creative artists often frame for our consideration and enjoyment. What will they make of us? What art and news and policy will they look back at hundreds or thousands of years from now and admire? Or be embarrassed by? Are we doing everything we can to ensure our river is still as clean and beautiful for them as we can make it? Every act in our daily lives, no matter how small, affects the river. Every single one of us changes our current and future worlds with our every action. We are, for them, history. Let’s make sure we treasure the dignity and gravity with which we have been entrusted.
As I gaze in wonderment, I can feel that this sublime and majestic river is, by its nature, good. When we don’t choose kindness, every single one of us has to go out of our way to override that inner voice we all have - our conscience reminds us that we know right from wrong. Our default setting is goodness and it’s indisputable. Living our lives can be so hard and I find this fact so reassuring, overwhelming even. Especially during those times when I am filled with doubt or worry. And we cannot ignore the muck between our toes. It exists and we succumb to it from time to time. But we are wired for good.
The major world religions use a lot of water-related imagery. Christians and Muslims believe God created man and all other creatures out of water. Both religions believe water symbolizes purity, like in baptism rituals. Muslims believe water is the source of life and a symbol of paradise. Hindus believe water holds purifying and cleansing powers. They value cleanliness of body and soul so they use water in many of their rituals as well.
I think about the river all the time. Sometimes I think it is God. After all, if you believe in God, you certainly know it’s not a white-haired dude hanging out ELSEWHERE. It’s right here, with us, in us, all the time. I never know exactly what I believe about God. But if you look at all of the wondrous things we humans are capable of, the astounding power that human love has to create and transform lives all along this eternal river… to me, that is God. Or our “source”, or the universe, or whatever you feel comfortable calling it. The Divine. Accessible to us at all times. Just dip your toe in.
Consider truly gifted artists such as The Beatles or Bob Dylan or F. Scott Fitzgerald. Something in their art spoke to so many of us that we lifted them up en masse so we could spread their message and so we could speak to each other about their work. They tapped deeply into our river - our shared humanity that tethers us together. They practiced and honed their craft and found a way to see into our souls and reflect our *selves* back to us. They speak to what our moment in the river FEELS like. We, the humans of this place and time, broadly agree that these are the messages we want to send to our future. To our beloved future humans, this is what it was like for us during our moment on this earth. These messages represent our fears and joys and trials and observations. Our calls for improvement and progress. Our heartbreak when we suffer. This is us. Isn’t that just so freaking cool?
Anyway, Abbey Road is great. Apparently I saw God or something so, you know, you should listen to it.
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