It is around 6 a.m. and I hear the sea gulls and crows and the light hum of traffic going by on Mt. Desert Street.  It seems a rather odd name for a street that is just a few hundred yards or so from the ocean’s shore.  I’ve been awake for a while quietly meditating, thinking about today and what to do.  No solutions, other than to say that like the rest of this “road trip” I shall simply do whatever the moment impresses upon me.

I am in Bar Harbor, Maine.  I arrived yesterday late afternoon and was fortunate to find, at least, a motel room which serves me well.  I’ve never been one to care much about the “room I intended to sleep in”; my eyes are closed when I sleep, so who cares.  And, I certainly never intend to spend any time, other than for sleeping (and, okay blogging…but hey it’s early and nothing is open) in whatever accommodations I find on a holiday.

Yesterday when I left Boston I chose to take the rinky dink roadway, to stay off the interstate highways.  So, I lolly gaggingly (no such word, but I like it) started driving north on 1A along the coast line.  Mother nature more than cooperated and in fact out did herself; it was a glorious day and because I am such an early bird, it was cool when I made my first stop – by my mentor, the sea – to do some photography.  Sadly, I cannot show you any of the photos as this time because this computer doesn’t support the memory card of my camera (boohoo); so I’ll have to try and paint a picture with words.

First, no problem with places to park in the tiny village by the sea.  So, parked, I got out and started to walk.  The tide was rolling its way out and the ocean floor was exposed and families of ducks and sea gulls strolled the beach together.  “Hmm,” were my thoughts.  It’s like they aren’t even thinking things like they don’t belong together, or “hey you, this is my turf, get lost.”  They just strutted about and every now and then one of them would pierce the muddy waters, fishing with his beak.  They were just out for an early morning stroll.  Other members of their respective family weren’t quite so energetic; just at the water’s edge they floated and bobbed as the tide washed in and out.  In the far distance was a huge ship.  I couldn’t tell if a passenger ship or trolley or whatever.  It just was there where sea met sky.  The mist had already lifted for the day and to the left (so it must have been east) the sun was burning away the remnants of the night and dispelling the clouds.  I managed to catch a few of the diamond sparkles it left dancing on the waters; it was like they were laughing and playing.

Much of the morning continued on like this; I’ll write more later, for I want to get to the point of this blog.

I find that “THIS LAND” is pretty vacant.  I am speaking of the journey along the interstate highways.  I found that it is no different to the journey along the interstate highways in Canada.  There are cities and towns and villages that we know of; that have made it to a map.  However, driving along this land, in the interior of both of our countries – interior of provinces and states – I dare to say that most of this land is uninhabited.  How very sad were my thoughts; thinking of  people from countries seeking refuge from wars (civil and tribal) and famine and water shortage and disease.  This is tragic – for we’ve turned them away because “they can’t  contribute to our economy.”

Humanity, judged by the dollar value it might add or should add, before being allowed to enter this land that they might live.  Is this the legacy we want to leave our children and the generations to come?

You know the old saying, “What goes around comes around.”  I absolutely believe this because life, love – is a perfect circle.

As I continued driving on the interstate I was thinking, “Well, North America, your hay day is over. Once you, we, could have done so much good for so many people.  Now it is too late and for all I know, the table shall turn and we will be reaching out to those we denied for help.”  I wondered, “Will they be so cold, so heartless and uncaring.”

This land; once “the” place to be. No longer I am afraid, no longer.

Even here in Bar Harbor, overflowing with wealth  (locals & tourists alike) a single man strolled through the streets and parks, digging into garbage cans.  At first collecting bottles.  He kept popping up in my stroll….and then I saw he had taken out a partially eaten ice cream cone some one had dumped into the garbage.  Everyone looked, myself included, but continued along, as though he didn’t exist.  He’d have to be dead not to feel the eyes that gazed at him; some belittlingly others sorrowfully…but still, we all continued like he wasn’t there.

This land, previously with outstretched hand and welcoming arms to the foreigner.  Now, it seems to all appearances that our hearts have hardened, turned to ice, for in seeing things like this – heck, maybe we don’t even see it anymore because it is so common place.  That is a worse tragedy than seeing and not acting.  Are we really blind to things like the poverty, disease and dying of our brothers and sisters; our own neighbours or even our own immediate family? If so, why is this; when did we turn the corner?

Thoughts of a song this morning “Lord, fill this land with the Father’s Glory.” and interpreted by my Spirit – “The Father’s Glory is Love!”  We’ve removed the Father’s Glory from this land; one at a time, you and I, have been peeling away, dismantling the Father’s Glory.

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