You’ve likely had a good dog say a blue tick, or a cat who you gladly wore as a nightcap, or any pet you cared for who was either suddenly killed, or spiraled down in old age.

If/ when the time came to ‘put the child down’, most all of us pre-grieved and grieved after, even though the spirit of the creature, the furry relative’s spirit, remained nearby somehow for many.

What takes us down about innocent people and creatures we know or see up close, or sometimes even from afar? Why do we weep?

Often, because the creatures, like certain human beings, are completely helpless and unaware of wily, more crass or murderous humans’ ways, and the valorous young run, skip, fly into danger without knowing… like little children Mengeles had marching to their deaths while happily singing a song he liked, not realizing…

Pakistanis, 9-11, citizens caught in war, or los otros, those who are suddenly beset by terrorist bombs and who die on their way to buy flowers, on their ways home from school with an artwork for their moms under their arms, souls just intent on workaday mundane things… suddenly, life gone. We feel deeply for them. Even more so for the completely innocent and unknowing. Even more so, the deaths of those on their ways with sweetness in them, and goodness in mind.

Remember your reaction to the one I named ‘the little Iraqi madonna,‘ the little child laid out with the yellow safety blanket around her and the pink of her blood and her darling little face with eyes closed? You were devastated. Something of her too short life and your much longer life connected in midair, mid-heart.

We cry about the death of innocent creatures too, another layer of what we hold precious in this world. Many of us find that most creatures feel like they are our relatives. Our odd billed and furry, feathered and scaled relatives. And many creatures, unlike some few humans, give us joy almost non-stop, even the big predators strike awe in us. And woodland or mountain songbirds singing their hearts out after rains make many feel, for long moments, at peace, at perfect peace. Many feel profound gratitude for that peace… and go to the mountain or to the big water or to the desert to find just that. To renew their souls.

For many, more so animals and not always so much humans, are the reliable securers of peace and harmony in their lives. The dependable smile of the dog when one comes home. The 100 geese in the snow all turning to listen when you talk to them. The paw of the cat, soft, on your face, wanting ‘up’. The cry of the coyote far off at night. The wing-splay of the eagle with its many feathered fingers fluttering in the wind at the tips of its dark wings. The young fledgling birds all shakey legged and hopeful, poised for life or death on an eave, ready to jump for the first time. Our hearts and souls react to all of these.

Pity us, yes, pity us if even one of our heart-medicines, even one of our soul supports for living in such a cacophonous and tangled world, is taken out by illness, or senselessly killed before their time. And especially, if such a life-reminding, life-giving creature is tortured, tormented before they die. We cry hardest often then, for we have reciprocal relationship with creatures… We cry sometimes for what is most known and beloved by the soul.

While one can become hardened to it all, having sold out in trade for some excessive something or other in mundane life that anesthetizes feeling– there is this underlying instinctual, psychological and spiritual truth inborn: Whether it is creatures or other human beings… innocents being tortured without cause or reason is one of the deepest revulsions, one of the deepest griefs found in anyone who still calls themselves human.
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See related article: F BP And The Horse They Rode in On, by Dr. CP Estés

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CODA
This photo and the one on article about BP previously, are of pelicans and a dragonfly by Gerald Herbert, an exquisite photographer on the ground at BP oil catastrophe, a photographer who knows ‘it’s all in the eyes.’

The brown pelicans and other birds and wildlife at the BP oil wreck, have died in slews every day by flying into the thick slop of oil that has saturated the marshes and now sits atop the marshes. Some rescue workers attempt to clean the creatures and save their lives; what chemicals they must use to cut through raw petrol. The pelicans have oil sludge in the delicate folds of the membranes of their pouches, ingesting it as well. The little dragonfly you see here cannot fly well. It was just flying around minding its own business and not recognizing danger. Heavy oil sludge has splattered onto its wings.

thank you S-Man for your great heart. Siempre.