Reflecting on my Rant

Awhile ago I wrote something. I think I called it a rant.

I remember how I felt when I was writing it.
I remember the series of articles I had read from the NY Times. Immigration. Wall Street. Monsanto. 
I remember I had only been in the US (Westchester County, NY - to be more relevant) for a couple weeks, after having been living in Central America for 10 straight months.
I remember sitting on the train amongst men and women ranging from 18 - 80 years in dry cleaned suits bearing iPads and iPhones, Starbucks and Pressed Juice, advertisements lining the insides of the trains, the stations we stopped at and even the building walls we sped by.
A mind fresh out of almost a year living in a rainforest, now overly sensitive to the media, technology, modernisation..."development".

The very thing I studied.

A Masters of Environment, Development, and Peace.

Yet, whenever I say this to people I find myself following-up with a 3-5 minute explanation about my philosophy on development.

And now here I am in the heart of it: New York magnificent City and I cannot even write 1 nice thing about it in my peaceful blog.

Just, a rant.

A while later now, and I'm writing something.

And I am very in touch with how I am feeling, as I almost always am (for better or for worse).

I am not floating in ecstasy - as I sometimes do.
      When I'm free in the ocean.
           When a curly haired cutie kicks me a ball on the beach.
       When a toucan flies over my head while I am lying down for savasana after a sacred session.

I am not angry - as I sometimes get.
      When I read about the injustices happening in the world at this very moment.
        When my friend in Central America tells me her sister was violently abused on her journey north.
       When I watch people mindlessly throw away good food. When I cannot enjoy a pineapple because of what I witnessed in farming.

I am just sitting here. In a place of acceptance for the present-day situation of the world. In a place of understanding of what I am capable of. A place of reality. (Side note: acceptance does not mean inaction or agreement). 

And I see a photo. And it is of New York City.
And a small smile crosses my face.

And I think of the man with a strong accent who sold me a tasty bagel every morning in the summer of 2008 and always had something nice to say.
And I imagine the lady on the subway who helped me one day when I was in a bad mood and had too much to carry.
And I remember the taxi cab driver of 2012 who handed me my money back plus extra for a fundraiser I was telling him about at the time.

And I remember the rant.
And I recognise where I am now.

Perhaps, sometimes we need to vent. We are fed a lot of BS. We are fed a lot of realities. Both hurt. And I suppose if we don't find some way to detoxify it or alchemise it, it will burn us up inside. I suppose it is already doing so to many people - and it metamorphoses into physical disease.

I don't know, yet, how much the rant served me.
I wasn't in the place I am now. I am ready to admit that after a long and intensive year at the United Nations University of Peace- of really dissecting peace and conflict with a combination of historical analysis of global violence and present-day massacres, alongside students and friends who lived these experiences first hand, my light was dimming. It was all overwhelming and the reality hurt.

Looking back now - those very friends are the ones who come to mind -and give me faith.
Their determination and perseverance, their projects, but more so their souls that are so easy for me to feel, they give me immense peace of mind.

I am in a better place of understanding now, and I feel better.
I feel more at peace.
And I think this is good. For me and for everyone.

And as I smile at the images of the beautiful people I met in NYC, I ask myself, and all the beautiful spirits of the world who guide me, to help me remember to not let society make me bitter. To not let the sicknesses of the world infect me. But rather, to let my awareness expand to acknowledge that these things do exist - injustices, disease, violence. Let me be accepting enough to know that somewhere in my path, I was given the strength and capacity to feel the pains of the world.
And while in the moment I may hurt and I may wade in the waters, help me to know that I can rise above.

Because in this place I am in now, I recognise that I do not want the world to make me bitter.

There are too many good people, doing too many good things, for me to lose faith.

And it's not what I am about.
Although often logical, practical and realistic - at heart there is no denying that I am a dreamer.
A Believer.

Only because the world has given me too much not to be.

An amazing family.
An extensive set of loving friends worldwide.
Acquaintances everyday who teach me something new. And make me smile.
Strangers doing things without expecting anything in return.
Good people doing small yet immensely impactful things - that hardly anyone hears about.

And a planet that gives and gives and gives.
No matter how much we abuse.
It is oh so forgiving.

And everyday it gives a gift to us. In the form of amazing colours. Or beautiful tastes. In fragrant rains or melodic sounds.

And I am so blessed to be able to live in places with the ability to see it.

Today I am writing something.
And I think I'll call it gratitude.