THE SONG OF THE MEADOWLARK
This entry was posted on 3/15/2008 3:20 PM and is filed under uncategorized.
Early one morning recently, as I opened the front door to feed the dogs, who work ranch security from the comfort of our big front porch, I heard a most amazing sound.
It was like a symphony of flutes and piccolos--and I confess I don't even know if that's spelled correctly--I am a music lover of all kinds but not an educated one. Each instrument seemed to be playing its own tune, but somehow, they all melded together in stunning harmony.
I had never heard anything quite like it.
There is a pasture that sweeps out in front of our house where the horses used to graze, back when we had them. Mesquite trees, once stunted and bushy as they normally are, have flourished through the years and have now reached a decent height and density. Of course they still retain their winter starkness, limbs uplifted in intricate lace patterns against the wild West Texas sky.
And one of the trees, which presses against the fence across the road from our front yard, was absolutely full of meadowlarks.
Meadowlarks have a distinctive song, and if I could read and translate music, I would explain it for you. My own crude interpretation is a sort of "Tweeeet-tum--diddlyum-dum."
A single meadowlark will sing that little melody over and over again. If I were any sort of naturalist or birdwatcher worth my salt, I could tell you why; that maybe it's a mating song or perhaps a danger warning to other meadowlarks. But I'm just a girl happy to live in the country and get to hear the meadowlark, unmolested by traffic sounds or neighbors' lawn mowers.
But I had never seen a whole convention of meadowlarks in one tree. Actually, they spilled out into nearby trees by the dozens, and they lifted their voices in some sort of heavenly chorus--maybe that's it. More a chorus than a symphony.
All I know is that the music those little birds made was one of the most beautiful sounds I'd ever heard.
Fearful of frightening them away in some sort of mass startle, I slipped out carefully and, quietly as I could, dumped the dogs' dry food into their dishes.
It bothered the birds not at all, nor did it stop their song even for an instant.
Though it was kind of cold that morning, I left the front door propped open. This rock house is over one hundred years old, and we don't have things like storm doors--just a plain old country slap-'em screen door. Hanging from the ceiling of the hallway is a set of wind chimes that I bought because they had been crafted by a musician--a set of pipes that had actually been tuned, so that when the West Texas wind banged them together, they would make song rather than noise. I often work on fine days, listening to the music of my wind chimes as the breeze through the screen door plays them.
But on this morning, there was no wind. Just the birds, the glorious birds. For a while, I just stood in the doorway and let them put on a show for me.
And I thought about the beauty and the sweetness and serenity of that morning, and about this whole political situation these days.
There is a great deal of cacophany on the Internet and on T.V. and radio. I am shocked sometimes at the level of discourse. A candidate we favor gets criticized and we respond with vitriol and rage and sometimes, personal attacks against the person making the statement.
It seems that there is so much anger out there, these days.
Sometimes I wonder where it all actually comes from. Have we always been this angry? Are we as angry now as we were in the sixties? Or has it been provoked, stoked, and manipulated by cynical politicians and their handlers, intent on gaining brownie points any way they can?
Karl Rove was a master of it, aided and abetted by Rush and Ann and their ilk, saying the most hateful and outrageous things imaginable just to make points.
And money. Lots and lots of money.
When did we lose our ability to debate in civil tones, trading points in a reasonable manner? Have we never had it? The Lincoln-Douglas debates were published, you know, in the newspapers and in pamphlets and much read and discussed before the election that made Lincoln president.
When people discussed those debates, did they call one another names and say hateful things?
Hateful politics has always been around; ever since the Revolution. But we didn't always have the Internet to fuel them. On the Internet, we can hide behind made-up names and designations, and maybe get away with saying things we wouldn't say if people knew who we were, or could see our faces.
I am who I am; I write under my own name, for better or for worse.
And, I know exactly where my anger comes from: an unjust, unnecessary war that could take the lives of family members I love. But maybe it goes back to the Clinton Crucifixion days, when, living in a conservative Republican stronghold, I was forced to listen to one diatribe after another aimed at a president I revered, and hatred toward his wife that still makes no real sense to me.
After all, nothing the Clintons ever did could have gotten one of those peoples' loved ones killed.
It baffles me sometimes though, since I've always supported the Clintons, that because I support Obama now, I keep being accused of hating her. I can't criticize her at all without people crawling out of the blogging network to hurl rage at me. If I seem hard on her sometimes, it is only because she's run such a harsh campaign that I believe is going to harm the party and our chances overall in November.
I know that my own anger toward the Bush administration borders on the unreasonable at times, but I must say, it does bring a sort of sly satisfaction now--seeing all those conservative friends out here who used to rave about the Bush's grow bitter and disappointed in their hero.
Everybody likes to be proved right, sooner or later.
It hurts though, seeing these kinds of attacks and anger within our own party now. I never thought I would see it, after everything we put up with from conservatives during the nineties. Bill Clinton's approval ratings nearly always hovered at 60 percent, and yet, right-wingers made up their minds to remove him from office one way or the other, voters be damned.
I never saw anything like it.
It doesn't mean that I think Hillary now should have the nomination; not because I don't like her, but because I fear very much that she cannot be elected, and if a Democrat is not elected in November, this war will go on and my family will pay. It's that simple to me.
Still, I don't see why we can't discuss these matters without getting so angry at one another. We will need each other in November. We can't be getting into irreconcilable family feuds now, can we?
Standing by my front door, listening to the breathtaking song of the meadowlark, I was reminded of the basic things of life that make it worth living: the love of family and friends, home, spirituality, work we enjoy, a cause we believe in.
These things do not change, no matter what goes on in Washington.
Sometimes, maybe we should all take a moment to listen to the song of the meadowlark--or any beautiful thing that brings peace to the soul: laughter of a child, a pet's happy bark or purr, conversation with spouse or friend, music or the sound of rain or whatever brings us joy.
We should go there, to that place of peace, as often as we need to, so that when we come back to place of disagreement, we will know that sometimes, even the most discordant melodies, played together in just the right way, can make a symphony.
