My lifelong buddy, Dick, recently used the word Miasma in our conversation. It is an old word, first appearing in the 1600s, that was used to describe a vaporous disease laden stink, stench, or decay that often comes from a swamp or open sewer. It is derived from the Greek, miainein, which means to pollute. Before medicine discovered germs, Miasma was used to describe vapors that caused illness or even madness. Today, we simply use it to describe something malicious that is destructive or demoralizing.
When Washington D.C., The Capital and White House were built, the area was noted for two things, its tropical climate, and the stinking swamp nearby. Ever since then, miasma has been used often to describe the political environment of our nation’s capital.
Currently, I think that miasma is the perfect word to describe what is emanating from the White House, the Administration, the Republican Party, and its elitist supporters.
The Cure for Miasma
There is a cure for that traitorous reek. It is simple and reinvigorating. It brings back to our ideals and goals. It is Beauty.
The cure begins when you can pause for a moment and focus on something that embodies what is right with our world. For me it is frequently something visual, the play of light on a simple object such as a flower. Others may be captured by a sound, a scent, or the feeling of something on their skin. For an instant time stands still and the experience cleanses me.
When I was born there was no me and you, there was just Is.
I was surrounded by beauty that filled with wonder.
Over time, naturally, I was absorbed into myself.
I became me and you, us and them.
Beauty remained but its brilliance dimmed.
But the wonder remains and calls quietly.
If I pause, I can hear it, beauty appears, and I return to Is.
Words can do the same thing.
A month ago, Dick sent me a small book, The Song of Life; Native American Wisdom. Its beauty is its wise words. They remind me that I am not alone and that I belong to something much greater. Life has meaning and I am alive.
Chief Dan George (1899 – 1981) — Coast Salish — from, My Spirit Soars
I would be a sad man if it were not for the hope
I see in my grandchild’s eyes.
Fools Crow (1890 – 1989) — Sioux — from, Fools Crow: Wisdom and Power
Our children are us in the tomorrow of life.
In them we remain here,
and so it will be with their children and their children’s children –
if the world survives.
Sandoval — Hastin Tlo’Tsi Hee — Old Man Buffalo Grass – Navajo
You look at me and you see only an ugly old man,
But within I am filled with great beauty.
I sit as on a mountaintop and look into the future.
Chief Dan George (1899 – 1981) — Coast Salish — from, My Spirit Soars
As you pass through the years
You will find much calmness
In your heart.
It is the gift of age,
And the colors of the fall
Will be deep and rich,
— if you let it happen.
Lakota Sioux, From the Sweat Lodge Ceremony
Endurance, cleanliness, strength, purity
Will keep our lives straight.
Our Actions only for a good purpose.
Our words will only be truth.
Only honesty shall come from our interaction
With all things.
The Song of Life: Native American Wisdom
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