Moonlight is bleeding from out of your soul…

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“Follow me down to the valley below, you know, moonlight is bleeding from out of your soul.” Lazarus, Porcupine Tree.
The tropical rain, thunders down here sometimes at night, from between clouds the moon appears washed out and a voice inside my head breaks the silence, this fiery world with its emotions so inflamed makes me more than sad.

My nightly carnage killing the mosquitoes makes me sad, so many poison vectors in this world, increasing as the world’s temperature increases. The ice caps melting, the storms increasing in number and velocity because of the warmer oceans and next door a former verdant oasis parched to a desert. Islands in the pacific inundated, the ocean is predicted to rise and drown populated lands. We continue to kill for oil, financial gain and self righteous beliefs of right and wrong. I say we because I am part of the push of population, the generation that ignored warnings from scientists on global warming. The generation taken in by self servicing media wanting to get your attention by milking disasters while, while peddling complacency.

People are becoming desperate. In certain countries the writing is writ large upon the landscape, lakes and rivers drying up, the rhythms of nature out of sync because of changes in temperature, exponential increases in carbon dioxide atmospheric levels in the last 10 years. And naturally competitive people kill each other for food, water, control, profit and self aggrandisement. Al Gore was right in ‘An Inconvenient Truth,’ “It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it.”

Here I am in paradise, surrounded by couples and families having a relaxing time, children doing what children do, screaming because a dog looks sideways at them, squealing and wriggling. The Sri Lankan staff here are amazing, gentle always smiling.

I can hear the sea pounding eating into the beach, a coal fired electricity generator pier nearby has altered the way the sea moves against the beach, even walking along the beach the voice inside my head wonders will many more generations of children, will have this beauty in their experience?

As a child I spent hours attempting to walk on the beach and leave no footprint, I wanted my impact on the earth to do no harm to be unnoted, I wanted the crabs and clams in the sand to feel safe as I walked by. Now I want to leave a foot print I want a clean outline of my passing through this planet. I see suffering mostly caused by ignorance, lack of self inquiry and no impulse control. My footprint is writ in love.

So I put on some music and the sadness in me transmutes into poetry and I move in ways that open my hips, mobilise my arms, I am well again, able to find silence through yoga. Nightly at sunset I walk on the beach and watch the crabs scuttle out of the sea and into their holes on the beach, making it all the easier to harvest them for the crab curry. The sand dollars bask in the evening sunshine and shells display their beauty strewn about by some mad design as the fiery sky and golden sea seduce me to awe.

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