In the Field · Pamela Lynch

In the Field

This past week was filled with tears.

First writing and reading a post about 9/11. Then, the opposing ideas about what we should focus on today. And finally, tears fall for the story behind the song "I Drive Your Truck" on the documentary, "It All Begins With a Song: The Story of the Nashville Songwriter."

Songs and books represent the ultimate freedom of speech. They leave legacies. Without one, there are no melodies to mark our sacred memories. Without the other, there are no words of wisdom to give us clarity, direction, or hope.

I have been praying for peace on earth since I was a little kid, blowing out candles. I recognize the privilege inherent in that prayer.

For me, peace means feeling safe and calm within my body, with an undeniable right to speak freely.

Freedom of Speech was once something we took for granted. We felt safe to share our opinions. We knew a healthy debate would be honoured.

Agree or disagree, humanity has evolved through the exchange of ideas.

Listening.

Learning.

Speaking our truth, without fear of being silenced.

Whether others believe us or not, it is an essential right to speak up and share our beliefs, opinions, and truths. And, ultimately, they are ours to hold up to the light to examine and choose to change our minds or not. That is our right.

It is respectful to listen to opposing ideas and to engage in a healthy debate, exchanging viewpoints.

What I feel humanity is at great risk of losing is compassion, unity, love, and prayer.

We need prayer, not finger-pointing.

Support, not arguing about what or who is right or wrong.

Respect, not disrespecting another person's opinion on social media.

I pray for unity, not separation.

I pray for right thinking, not coercion.

I pray for affirmative action taken on behalf of humanity.

I pray for our Freedom of Speech.

Most of all, I pray for the parents, siblings, spouses, friends, and families who didn't get to hug their loved one and say, "I love you," tonight, because their freedom, not only of speech, but of life, was taken away.

Love and Blessings,

Pamela

I shall leave Rumi's poem here as a reminder.

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,

There is a field.

I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies low in that grass,

The world is too full to talk about.

Ideas, language,

even the phrase each other

Doesn't make any sense.

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