Monsoon madness

Tonight I went out to make an offering of vegetable scraps, bread and celery to the javelina king who visits our compost heap from time to time with his subjects. Thunder rumbled in the distance, the near full moon covered by mysterious clouds that obscured her face. The miasma  of sage and more pungent odors wafted by on the humid air.

The monsoons have finally arrived, bringing high winds, lightning and rain that is not the soft soaking kind but more like it's coming from the sky god's anger and frustration--I understand how they feel. I am angry and frustrated too, every day more appalled by man's inhumanity toward his home. We hurtle toward some sterile place that feeds the greedy and has nothing to do with those who care, who love, who live close to the earth--a copper mine on sacred Native ground, drilling for oil in the Arctic, fracking in our national forests.

Today Greenpeace prevailed against Shell, stopping their ship about to bring the means to Alaska to drill in the pristine waters of the Arctic. I'm sure only a delay to their plans but hooray for them. And on the same day I hear about an oil slick off the coast of Santa Barbara that is 1000 miles long. No one seems to know where it came from.

I try not to listen, I try not to fret but ultimately it is my grandchildren who will inherit this world. What do we want to leave for them? Do we want a country in which the prevailing power is corporations or do we want to take it back? What about all these beautiful creatures?