This post is part of a series on emotional and psychological aspects of climate change that get little to no attention or acknowledgement, yet have a tremendous impact on the ways we are responding to climate change and on what is possible. Some of the posts are factual and literal; some are poetic. For an overview of the series and links to all the individual posts in the series, see Climate Change: What Isn’t Talked About.
The cooing of the doves feels like an answer to the questions and fears I carry right now.
I hear them when I meditate in the dark morning, as I sit with all that stirs inside me during this time of pandemic. And climate change, yes, it’s still in there too, echoing similarly.
I don’t know what will come of all this.
But I know that the doves’ gentle cooing is a bridge somehow. Sometimes, in the clean moments, it’s a guide I can follow to how to be. Sometimes it’s barely a handhold by my fingertips, that I can use to pull myself out, when the anxiety snakes writhe in my belly. Sometimes it’s just a reminder that I will find my way back, somehow, to my breath and center. Even if it isn’t now. Even if it isn’t tomorrow.
And it’s not as if they have it easy, these doves. They don’t have their little dove hotel from which they can coo in their privilege. They are in the storms. The searing heat. The drought.
You can try to force and analyze its meaning for you, this cooing. Or you can let it wash over you and clean out your insides.
We want to know so much. We want to know it now. With certainty and guarantees.
But then there is the singing across to each other from the windows. The doves cooing.
I read somewhere once about a newborn baby being brought out of the hospital for the first time. She was agitated, squirmy. And then the breeze brushed her face. And she was stilled by this new sensation. I like to think that she sensed an answer there too. An answer that always is.
What if we let the answers be something different sometimes? What if we trust that answers sometimes sound like doves cooing?