Apr 22, 2021
Gaia: The Diary of Climate Change
Episode 3
I picture Earth, a drop of water suspended in space. I think of the wars, the confrontations, the unwillingness to consider peace first. I think about the diversity — the unimaginable beauty and fragility of life. I do not have enough body, enough liver, enough gall bladder to protect this place. I tried with all my hubris, stupidity, and amnesia to do the best that I can and my best is not good enough. I miss my children. A million howls are trapped between the synapses of my brain.
God is fucking with me. He’s always doing that. In every life, I have to prove that I love him the most and only him; that my loyalty to him is supreme and nothing can come between us. This razor’s edge of commitment is what changes the world.
I remember my partner. I remember our last day together in Japan, not the Japan of this planet. It was another Japan, where culture superseded biological features, at the edge of space-time. I begged him not to do it. We meditated together. He waited for me to fall asleep when he crept out of the house with a box. It was just a box with a button. He took it to a cliff nearby and reset the world embedding himself in the texture of all material. What existed before he pushed the button? It was always him. There was no space-time without him. This is what I don’t understand with this mind. It was dawn. I walked out of our house made of paper and wood. The golden light reflected on the tall grass. I knew he was gone but near, ever near, and that this was the beginning of an endless game.
To love him is to love all of existence and the inherent agency of life and matter; never selling out. Many attempts have been made to make me forget him and our promise. When they took my children from me, I almost gave in. When they moved my children to another city I was told that I endanger my children by not accepting the current political conditions. Am I supposed to acknowledge Biden as the President of the United States? What does it matter what I think? I am willing to give up political commentary but I cannot give up my commitment to life, liberty — my silsila with God that is a promise to humanity and to Earth.
The hardest part is not being able to hold him. That’s why I asked him not to do it. For infinity, I am condemned to feel his presence and never be able to touch him.
A point in my heart locks into the cosmos like a key. Galaxies churn. The stars, all of existence, space-time compresses down into this feeling that I can no longer tolerate the separation. At night the planets and I remember him. We dance in spirals in honor of him; beloved. Beloved, lost to me in particles. So far is he. So lost to me. I cannot forgive him for sacrificing us. Living without him, I’ve turned to stone. Here I am, with wings spread across a stone body. I feel that I am blind. Blind spots surround me. I wait at the edge of the world with languages and music. There at the edge, he is light. Whoever thought light could be so wild. We are wild. Unfolding in the magnificence of the multiverse. I feel the presence of stars in his breath. I melt away among the stars. When I am born again, I will search for him. This is our game and through this game, life endures.
