Act Five: Toward An Illumined Tomorrow

The world is based on a rhythm we can always hear and see. On a recent trip to the Limon province of Costa Rica, the howler monkeys woke me up every morning. Their loud cacophony was a pleasant alarm for the budding day. Unlike roosters, they don't crow at the first drop of sunrise, rather, they let day mature a bit, then start their lovely howling to let you know that dawn has passed.

That rhythm gave me such a joyful jolt in the morning, I didn't need coffee (which I don't drink anyway, but mind the metaphor). Rather, their howls and the sunlight poking through the shutters were more than enough to motivate me out of bed and get my day percolating. They howled through the day as well, letting us know they were present. They would hop across the canopy above, safe from their predators and their intruders (us). They set the day's rhythm and I loved their presence. They're a welcome backdrop in the rainforest, reminding you that, yup, you're definitely in THEIR home.

I base my life on rhythms. That came from an early, intensive study of the Book of Ecclesiastes in the Bible. I was never heavily dogmatic or religious, but I loved the wisdom contained in the Bible. I found more wisdom in the Torah, Koran, Bhagavad Gita, and other holy books as I navigated my own mortality and place on this planet. Something common, as presented by King Solomon, the writer of Ecclesiastes, was that there's a time for everything. The song, Turn Turn Turn by The Byrds, brings that lesson home melodically. And when I learned that my life had a rhythm, that there were seasons for every aspect of life (and death), it relieved a lot of my worry about how the future would unfold.

I recently had a death in the family. Over the last year, I have had to watch several of the preceding generation pass from this mortal coil. It has been hard, in the sense that I will miss those I love, and liberating. Each one of them lived full lives and seeing them released from mortality gave me great peace, despite my sadness. And those I loved, whom I have mourned and buried, taught me immeasurable lessons. But the one thing they always gave me in common was hope for tomorrow. They told me as long as the sun rose, there was a chance to do something different.

One of them gave me the most powerful advice a young man could ever bring into his future: I quote Gil Scott Heron but he gave me the same message, "No matter how far gone you've gone, you can always turn around." When you know that your mistakes, as long as they are not fatal, are always recoverable, you learn another form of grit, of respect for life, for time and space, for humanity. Those ancestors (elders when they imparted the knowledge) reminded me there was a season for everything - especially for stability, especially for change, especially to try new things, especially to say "No."

My future is brighter than my past because of their passionate counsel. They never let me fall too hard or too far, but they did let me fall. They let me see the error of my ways and showed me how to keep looking up, keep moving forward, and, as the song says, turn around when life demanded it. They knew how to keep light, no matter how it flickered or dimmed, bright enough to find my way. They taught me that tomorrow is never promised but as long as it comes, so does opportunity.

I've taken more U-turns than I care to admit. I'm taking them still. Every day I make a choice to move forward in some ways, hold still in others, back up when I see the need. I make the choice to make tomorrow better than yesterday, and make the most of today. When I do that consistently, I find that I can help others, starting by helping myself. I don't need to be selfish or afraid or greedy or lazy or productive or perfect or imperfect. I can be human and that is always enough for me to find the energy and inspiration to illuminate tomorrow.

Here's to those wise enough to teach, and those of us wise enough to hear them. Here's to the howler monkeys that wake whoever is in their home and who have the blessing to hear them. Here's to every mistake we made and the ones yet to be made. Here's to the U-turns and left turns and right turns and even the paralysis that comes from the very next decision. Here's to humanity and the joy of knowing we can always shape the future if we are alive to see it. Here's to the rhythm of an illumined tomorrow.